


Festis Bei Umo Canavarum

by CaseNumber183a



Category: Dragon Age
Genre: Angst, Explicit Language, Fluff, M/M, Romance, Sexual Content, Slash, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-08-23
Updated: 2012-10-18
Packaged: 2017-11-12 17:06:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 46,556
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/493650
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaseNumber183a/pseuds/CaseNumber183a
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes some things are just beyond control.</p><p>Begins in Act III, after Fenris defeats Danaius.<br/>This story follows Anders and Fenris through a Florence Nightingale-ish kind of scenario. A slow evolution of the two men after recovery.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Fenris groaned as he threw his legs over the side of his ramshackle bed. _Who_ in the Makers name was mercilessly beating down the door to his mansion? He looked through the hole in the ceiling as he picked up his sword. From the shade of the light penetrating room, Fenris guessed it was mere minutes past dawn. Sword raised, he silently descended the stairs to his foyer.

"Fenris, open up. It's Hawke!" The pounding slowed, but became louder, shaking the door with the impact of each knock.

_Who else._

"Fasta Vas." Lowering his sword to open the door, Fenris cursed Hawke under his breath in Acranum.

"What do you need, Hawke?"

" _Well_ , good morning to you too, Fenris. Always _such_ a ray of sunshine, aren't we." Hawke waited until Fenris took notice of his mocking grin before he continued, "Aveline got caught up in guard business." Hawke rolled his eyes and gestured his head back and to the left, towards the Viscount's Keep. "I need a warrior. We're off to the Wounded Coast yet again."

Hawke twirled a folded piece of parchment between two fingers before presenting it to Fenris. "Nothing major, just cleaning house; rescuing some noble's maiden daughter." Hawke flicked the back of his hand against Fenris' bicep with a smirk and a raised eyebrow. "Get ready. We need to be under way before it gets any bloody hotter. I still have a... stop to make." Fenris shot Hawke a suspicious glare, still slightly groggy from being awakened. Hawke answered the elf's salty glare with a scratch of his beard as Fenris all but dragged his sword back up the stairs.

Fenris was grumbling again as he descended the stairs, fully armored and packed for a few days on the coast.

~~|   ~o~    |~~

"Getting supplies?" Fenris asked flatly as they started towards the Lowtown bazaar. He wasn't sure why else they'd be on that particular route, when the gates of Kirkwall closest to the coast were, in fact, in the opposite direction.

"Uhh, sort of. Heading to"

"Picking up Blondie," Varric interrupted, looking up from reading the parchment Hawke had just given him.

"Hawke, I do not like being mislead. I will _not_ travel with the mage." Fenris stopped abruptly, nearly causing Varric to stumble into him.  

"Oh, come on," Hawke said, lolling his head childishly. "You're the only other warrior I trust to have by my side in battle. We need you, Anders or no."

Fenris growled. Woken up early, dealing with Hawke in one of his _moods_ , and now... this. What a fine day this had turned out. Fenris huffed again before his retort. "Fine." Hawke could practically see the annoyance bubbling in Fenris, anticipating Anders' presence. " _This_ time." Fenris paused a while longer before he started walking again. "If you value your life, you will _not_ withhold from me again, Hawke."  

Hawke threw his hands up in the most sarcastic way possible, grinned, and headed further away from the Hanged Man towards Darktown, with Varric and Fenris in tow.

~~|   ~o~    |~~

"Maker's balls, Hawke. What's _he_ doing here?" Anders hooked a thumb towards the clinic door where the elf waited with Varric. Fenris hadn't _entered_ the clinic, per se, more just hovered around the door. He couldn't decide which he'd hate more; standing in Darktown, or standing in the mage's _sanctum of healing and salvation_ , as he so ironically put it.

Fenris huffed at his thoughts of irony and Anders' magic before he pulled himself from his musings, annoyed that he'd wasted a moment's thought on the damnable mage.

"Aveline had guard business. You two are just going to have to get along." Hawke's devious grin grew as he felt Anders' discomfort.

"I don't need anything else on my mind as it is, now I have to travel with that... that... close minded son-of-a." The last thing Anders wanted was another heated debate with Fenris. He was tired of his hypocritical arguments. If anyone should have understood his cause, it _seemed_ like it would have been Fenris; the former slave, the man who, until he fled to Kirkwall, had no rights, just as tower mages do now.

Hawke interrupted. "You're the only other mage I trust to have by my side in battle," he began, giving Anders the same line he'd fed Fenris, "we need you, Fenris or no."

Anders sighed.

Hawke tossed the folded parchment to into Anders' hand. "Wounded Coast... again." He raised a thick, masculine, caterpillar-y brow, waiting for Anders' response. He knew what it would be, just as he'd known what Fenris' would be, just as he knew that the four of them would venture, and succeed, and reap their spoils.

"Fine, but you owe me at the Hanged Man when we return." Anders smiled, a crooked thing, showing off only a cusped tooth and a stubble-covered dimple.

"Atta-boy,"  Hawke said as he clapped a hand on Anders' shoulder. Anders grinned back as he opened the letter and began reading it far too dramatically.

 

 

 

 

> _Champion,_
> 
> _You simply must help me! My daughter, Orlanna, was abducted by foul bandits. One of my servants has discovered she was taken somewhere in the Wounded Coast._
> 
> _I bid you make haste, for I fear these low-born scum will take her maidenhood! That would make the arrangement of a suitable marriage for her very difficult._ _Please, return Orlanna to me intact._
> 
> _-Reginald Thaddeus Spincter_

~~|   ~o~    |~~

"Blondie!" Varric yelled, launching a shower of crossbow bolts into the air, "two comin' up behind you!"

Anders thrust his staff straight into the air, lunged forward, and flung his arm out in front of him as he discharged a fatal fireball from his palm. As his victim burned to the ground, Anders twirled the staff in his hand and spun around to greet the poor saps that dared approach him from behind. "You've messed with the _wrong_ mage," Anders yelled as he unleashed chain lightening on the closest enemy and watched, with a dangerous gleam in his eye, as lightening skipped from one _now-dead_ body, to the next _soon-to-be-dead_ body.

As the battle died down, Anders nearly fried Hawke when he suddenly appeared behind him. "Dammit, Hawke! You really shouldn't do that. You almost took a lightning bolt to the face." Anders wiped sweat off the back of his neck, trying to wring out the bits of moisture from his hair. "Maker's ass, its hot out here."

"Do you _ever_ stop bitching?" Fenris appeared though the smoky residue left by one of Hawke's damn flasks, massive broadsword, bloody and gleaming in the sun, hoisted cockily over his shoulder.  

Varric laughed. Anders ignored the elf's comment, obviously directed at him. "What's up with all these bloody Tal-Vashoth? Last I recall, we already took out some of these encampments." Anders scratched his head and turned to Hawke and Varric.

"You would be correct, Blondie. It's like they've multiplied since your epic duel, _O' Champion of Kirkwall_." Varric looked up from his task of grooming Bianca with a mocking grin.

"So it seems," Fenris added.

"Maybe they _are_ rebel stragglers from the group that fled _my_ fair city." Hawke nudged Anders with his elbow.

"We've already taken out three entire groups, and we're not even through searching the first part of the coast yet." Varric's tone was more serious now. "There's definitely more of 'em. We best be more cautious. If the trend keeps up, were in for a long couple'a days."

Anders sighed. "Well, regardless, we should rest. Rehydrate. Get the damned sand out of our bloody boots."

Fenris shot Anders a cocky glare regarding the 'boots' comment, with his head bowed, hair covering most of his face.  Anders kicked sand at Fenris' feet and huffed over to sit on a rock, thrusting his staff down into the sand.

"Right. Let's find some shade." Hawke looked up at the sun, holding the rolled map up to shade his eyes. "I need to look at the map a bit anyway."

~~|   ~o~    |~~

"Hawke... I think we've passed this boulder before." Hawke shot Anders a lethal glare from over the top of his map. "It's just... we've combed a good part of the coast, and there's no sign of this girl, or any bandits for that matter." Anders' tone was carefully chosen, for once.

"Would _you_ like to lead, Anders?!" Hawke was getting angry. He was hot, exhausted, covered in grime and sand, and _not_ in the mood for Anders' smart mouth. Fenris huffed loudly at the thought of the abomination leading the way, but remained silent otherwise.

"Alright, that's enough. He's right, Hawke. We should set camp for the night and continue tomorrow. We'll start here, and..." Varric traced a finger over a line in the map, "and here." He pointed to a ridge of the coast in the opposite direction that they had been heading.

Hawke crinkled the map a little. "Fine. There was a small cavern not too far back east."

~~|   ~o~    |~~

The next day, their journey though the coast was just as hindered by Tal-Vashoth as the one before it. Three groups down before midday; it was, in fact, worse than the previous day.

"Son-of-a! Hold still, Hawke!" Hawke bit down on a cloth that Anders had shoved between his teeth. Anders worked skillfully to remove a particularly rusty, jagged hatchet blade from Hawke's shoulder. Fenris tensed up, holding Hawke down the best he could without worrying about hurting him further. He grunted and bucked against Fenris, nearly causing him to stumble backwards, as Anders tugged on the blade one last time before throwing it into the sand, still covered in Hawke's blood. Anders hunched over when he finished knitting the muscle and skin of Hawke's shoulder back together.

"You okay, Blondie? You don't look so good." Varric tossed him a waterskin.

"I'm alright. Gettin' a little depleted." Anders ran a hand over his pseudo-beard, streaking a little of Hawke's blood along his jaw. "Taking down those Saarebas took more mana than I'm comfortable with." He was breathing heavily in the stagnant, humid air. "So damn hot..." Anders slid his back down a boulder until he was resting in the sand.

Hawke groaned when he went to move his shoulder around. "Thanks, Anders," he said gruffly.

"I need to regain some mana before we head into another _ambush_." Anders' tone was serious until the last word. Hawke shot him a look.

~~|   ~o~    |~~

Finally, they came upon a seemingly abandoned encampment. As soon as Varric pointed it out, sharing hopeful excitement with his companions, they were attacked by another group of Tal-Vashoth. Anders groaned when he saw at least two more Saarebas . He yelled out to Varric to draw his, and Bianca's, attention to them, hoping for swift resolve.

As Hawke's group cleaved though nearly all of their attackers, another wave crept into battle.

"Dammit!" Hawke screamed as he turned to see a young woman standing alone in the middle of the encampment.

"How many of these guys _are_ there?" Varric yelled, releasing another crossbow bolt between the eyes of yet another Saarebas, who, apparently wasn't thrifty enough the throw up a shield. "Hah! Right in the face, on the house!"

Fenris swung his massive sword over his head, coming down on a particularly nasty and powerful looking qunari rebel, before whipping it around himself like a tornado of destruction, taking out two more that had approached him. Before anyone knew it, he was on the complete opposite side of the battle, taking out two more Tal-Vashoth that were surrounding Varric.

"Shit! Bandits!" Anders screamed as he raised his hands into the air, reaching into his meager reserves of mana. Soon, a lethal deluge of fireballs rained from the sky over the newly approaching assailants.

Varric turned with Anders to hold off the bandits with their best ranged attacks, giving Fenris and Hawke a better chance to finish off some of the Tal-Vashoth. As the qunari numbers dwindled, Hawke rushed up the hill towards the encampment to protect the young woman standing there, terrified.

Anders was in bad shape. "Varric! On my left!" Varric turned to take out the assailant approaching Anders' left flank. He was practically out of mana, drawing upon his own energies to cast spells of desperation. He fought off another bandit with the spikes on the end if his staff. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end as he felt a foreign magic being willed somewhere nearby.

"Saarebas!" Anders shouted, unable to see the magical qunari. He knew one was _somewhere_ near. He began backing away, trying to get a better look at the battlefield, surveying the area in an effort to locate the deadly Saarebas. As Anders tussled with the last of the nearby bandits, his eyes landed on the qunari he'd felt coming. Anders saw a massive blue orb of magic growing a short ways in front of the collared mage.

"Shit. Shit. Shit!" Anders pooled magic into his hands. Just enough to throw up a shield to protect him from the devastating blast that he knew came from that particular azure spell. Small blue sparks fell from his fingers when he made to solidify the shield around himself, and the spell fizzled out in his hand. Anders instinctually shielded himself with his arms and tried to flee the area. The unstable sand beneath his feet betrayed him, causing him to fall as he scrambled, sprawled out on the ground as the Saarebas approached, devastating blue orb still growing.

Anders used all of his will to try to rouse Justice. He'd been putting _so_ much effort forth to subdue him of late, that it proved quite a toil. Finally, Anders felt Justice's resolve begin to disintegrate, but the qunari was quicker than Anders could afford. He was on closing on Anders. Fast.

There was a flash of incandescent blue radiance and Fenris' figure, encased in the ghostly lyrium glow, was standing in the mere ten foot gap between Anders' body and the Saarebas. Fenris' stance was the definition of defensive; his sword raised high, legs parted, knees bent, back slightly arched. There was a dangerous gleam in his eye which, if the Saarebas hadn't been under the control of his Arvaarad, would have made the qunari want to flee in an instant.

"You shall not," Fenris screamed as he settled protectively in front of the mage's body, "have _him_!" It thrust the azure orb of magic into the chest of the elf as Fenris was upon him. The Saarebas' spell exploded as it lost control of its magic when Fenris' sword ran straight through the qunari's midsection, up under his ribs.

The explosion of the Saarebas' spell covered Anders' body in sand and debris, half burying him as he slid across the ground from the blast. He was disoriented, coughing, and desperately trying to gather his bearings, while attempting to get sand out of his eyes and mouth.

~~|   ~o~    |~~

When he scrambled up the hill looking for his companions his heart sank deeper and deeper each second that he neither saw, nor heard any of them. Still rubbing his eyes, dizzy and disoriented,  he thought he heard his name being called from a distance. He stopped and listened for a moment.

"Hawke?" He yelled in the direction of the encampment they had been fighting at before he got separated by the Saarebas.

"Over here!"

_Oh thank the Maker! Sweet, sweet, dwarf._

Anders staggered up the hill towards his companions. He must have looked even worse than he felt, if Hawke's reaction was anything to go by. It wasn't... the man dramatized everything, but Anders suspected he still looked _that_ awful.  

"You uhh... got a little sand on your face." Hawke said smugly. "This is Orlanna. Safely in our custody, as promised."

"Broooooody!?" Varric yelled in the distance, slinging Bianca over his back before cupping his hands around his mouth.  

"Pleasure," Anders said sharply, turning away from the young woman they'd just rescued. "Varric, where's Fenris?" Anders asked with unexpected urgency.

"Don't know, Blondie. Lookin' for him. You go that way." Varric pointed in the opposite direction.

"Shit..." Anders took off back down the hill he had just climbed to find Hawke and Varric. "Shit. SHIT!" Anders cursed as he ran. "Varric. This way!" He yelled back, remembering the ghostly lyrium figure that had stepped in front of him as he lay defenseless in the sand.

Anders was searching the area around the dead Saarebas, with Fenris' sword still ran through its chest, when Varric jogged up next to him. "Anything?" He asked.

"Not yet. I was there," Anders pointed to a depression in the sand, "and that _fucker_ ," he pointed to the dead Saarebas, "was going to finish me off, when Fenris stepped in between us. He's here somewhere. He has to be!" Anders rustled around some shrubbery before moving to look elsewhere.

Hawke was walking down the hill with Orlanna when Varric found Fenris' body. "Anders! NOW!" Varric yelled. Anders was at his side in a split second.

"Shit!" Anders yelled again.

~~|   ~o~    |~~

There was a massive bloody splatter against a boulder behind Fenris. Hawke and Anders gingerly moved his body out of the dried shrubbery and into the sand, so that Anders could take a better look at what he was dealing with. Anders reached down to put his ear to Fenris' mouth and his fingers under his jaw. "He's alive. Weak pulse. His breathing is ragged, probably from broken ribs." Anders scooped the back of the elf's neck into his hand to examine the source of the blood soaking his hair. "Shit. That mark there," Anders nodded towards the huge bloody smear on the rock, "was from his head. He's in bad shape, with Maker knows how many other injuries."

Anders was suddenly enraged. "Hurensohn! Was hat er sich dabei gedacht?!" Anders rose and kicked at the sand viciously.

"ANDERS!" Hawke yelled for the _third_ time.

"Was?" Anders practically screamed, still reverting to his mother tongue. He sighed and ran a hand roughly though his hair, causing sand to cascade into his face. "What, Hawke? What do you want?"

"Are you okay, Anders? Get your blighted self under _control!_ " Hawke paused to stare at Anders, trying to allow him some time to calm down. "You need to heal him, now. What do you need me to do?"

"I... I can't. I'm completely drained." Anders knelt by Fenris' side again, brushing bloody hair out of the elf's face. "I need some lyrium potions." Anders dipped a hand into the pouch on his belt and brought it back out with nothing but bits of shattered glass.

_Scheiße._

"We need to get him back to town. Back to my clinic. I will heal him as I can on the way." Anders covered his face with a hand and scratched at the stubble on his chin.

Hawke and Varric nodded as Anders pulled a sheet out of his pack and layed it flat on the sand. "One, two, three, lift." Anders and Hawke carefully shifted Fenris' unconscous body onto the sheet. Varric started tying off the corners as grips.

Hawke carried the top of the sheet, by the elf's head, for the first hour. Anders stubbornly carried the bottom end, even though he was having enough trouble walking as it was. When Varric came up beside him to take over, Anders swatted his arm away. "I'm fine, Varric. I can go a little longer."

Varric took the gleam in the mage's eye seriously and backed away with his hands up.

"I'm worried about Blondie," Varric quietly told Hawke while they rested for a moment. They watched together as Anders tried to gather his mana over the elf's body. Each time, the blue glow fizzled out and Anders punched at the sand. He was sweating furiously, face pale and beathing heavily. "Let's go, I can't do anything just yet," Anders told the group sharply.

He took up his hold of the sheet at Fenris' feet again. No one said a word this time. Orlanna trailed between Hawke and Varric the whole way.

A short time later, Anders fell to one knee, still holding onto his corners of the sheet. "That's it, Anders!" Hawke set his end of the of the unconscious elf's makeshift stretcher into the sand and sternly approached the kneeling mage.

"I'm fine. Just give me a seco"

"No! You're been pushing youself too hard. I don't know why you're doing this, but it ends _now_." Hawke's tone was severe and his eyes were narrowed when Anders looked up at him.  Hawke may have been a complete _ass_ most of the time, but he cared about their ragtag group of misfits. They were all he had now, save for Carver, but he'd been off with the Wardens for years; they were his _family._

"We set up camp an"

"We don't have time for this, Hawke! Not for camp! Not for rest! We nee"

Hawke interrupted him again. "Dammit, Anders! Just a couple of hours." Hawke crossed his arms. Anders gently lowered the elf's legs onto the sand. "You can sleep it off for a few to regain some mana. You might even be able to heal the worst of his wounds." Hawke's stern look shifted to a more concerned one.

Anders said nothing as he stomped over to where Varric was preparing a fire and readied a place to rest.

~~|   ~o~    |~~

"I healed the head wound enough to where it's no imminent threat. Tried to treat some of his broken ribs, but... I-I bandaged his midsection the best I could. No fluid in the lungs, thankfully, but his breathing is still ragged and weak. Nowhere near stable. We really need to get him back to the clinic." Anders was too exhausted to sound angry anymore. Instead, his tone was melancholy through and through.

Anders finally took the time to tell the group what had happened; the Saarebas, being drained of mana, falling ridiculously in the sand like a defenseless, firghtened child, Fenris, and the blast. He was weary by the end of the story. His hands were shaking and dark circles had crept up under his eyes.

"I just... It should be me. I should be dead in the sand back there. Not... Dammit. What was he thinking! Senseless, incorrigible, bloody _ELF_!" Anders kicked at the sand. "He hates me. Everything I _am_. Everything I'm capable of. And now... now." Anders trailed off when Varric put a hand on his shoulder.

They continued back towards Kirkwall, Varric and Hawke awkwardly gripping the sheet because of their height difference. They all rotated turns carrying the elf, stopping when they needed to, but never for more than an hour; just long enough for Anders to exhaust the meager mana that had built up over time, working on Fenris' most worrisome injuries.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fasta Vas: A curse in Arcanum.  
> Hurensohn: Son of a bitch (German)  
> Was hat er sich dabei gedacht: What was he thinking? (German)  
> Was: What (German)  
> Scheiße: Shit/crap (German)
> 
> Hope all of the translations are correct. I tried my best!
> 
> I've kind of come to pair the song Madness, by Muse, with this fic. Just a side note for anyone who might care. Either way, it's an amazing song, so... there. =D


	2. Chapter 2

It was late into the night when the men could see the great gates surrounding Kirkwall. They were all exhausted, all worried. Anders lead them through a series of dark tunnels under the city as a short cut right into Darktown. Orlanna carried a torch to light the area for her four rescuers, remaining silent still.

Anders had never felt so relieved to see the doors of his clinic. He and Hawke brought the elf's limp body onto a high wooden table. Anders immediately turned to grab some glowing blue potions and downed two straight away.

They'd had close calls before. All of them had, but everything always worked out. Be it fate, or chance, or Hawke's impeccable timing, a lucky mana potion, or the skilled sweep of a sword; they had always made it through whatever _mess_ they'd gotten themselves into, or, more likely, Hawke had gotten them into, but this... _this_ was grim. _This_ was close. _This_ might break their lucky streak.

Once Anders was lost in concentration over healing the elf, Hawke asked Varric to escort Orlanna back to her father's estate. "I think I need to stay with Anders for now. You have my thanks, Varric." Hawke took his hand off of Varric's shoulder and sent his regards with Orlanna as they made their way out the door.

~~|   ~o~    |~~

Hawke was laying on a cot nearby when he heard a grunt and a loud thud. He sprang up and swiftly made his way to Anders' side on the floor.

"You okay?" Hawke hooked his arms under Anders' and pulled him up. He recoiled after Anders was stable enough; a natural reaction when you're grasping someone covered in blood, sweat, and sand.

"Sorry. Need to rest. Watch him?" Anders was a sweaty, grunting mess. He'd barely formed three coherent thoughts, so addled from exertion and excessive lyrium use. Hawke nodded and Anders collapsed onto nearest cot, completely spent.

~~|   ~o~    |~~

The morning sun rose before he knew it and Hawke went to wake Anders. Anders was pooling magic in his hands before he was even fully awake. He looked bedraggled standing by the elf's side, still a filthy mess with dark circles under his eyes.

Anders worked a long time on Fenris, only stopping to finish off the last of his lyrium stock. He had already risked lyrium poisoning from the many he'd used when they first brought Fenris to the clinic, but Anders didn't seem to care much.

"He's stable now, thank the Maker." Anders sighed in relief. He couldn't remember the last time he'd felt this relieved over a patient. "I think he'll make it through, once he comes out of his unconsciousness. There's not much more I can do about that part. I healed the concussion, now we just have to wait." Anders stared at the elf a while longer.

"If everything is going well, then... I really should get back to the estate."

"Yes, of course. You need to rest. Thank you, Hawke. You're a good friend. Better than I deserve." Anders placed his hand on the outside of Hawke's shoulder.

"Thank _you_ , Anders. I'll come check up on him as soon as I can." Anders stared back down at the elf as Hawke left, once again pooling magic into his hands.

Anders spent the next few hours healing the elf in spurts, until most of the more minor injuries had subsided as well. He slid a cot beside the table. Anders tucked his arm under Fenris' limp legs and placed another across his shoulders before picking him up. He held him there a moment, gazing down heartrendingly at the man in his arms. Fenris was lighter than he expected when held this way, then again, when they'd been carrying him earlier, Anders had been exhausted. He transferred Fenris onto the cot and pulled it to the back of the clinic, near the area he had sectioned off for himself with makeshift curtains.

Anders filled a bowl with warm water and gently washed Fenris off with a cloth. He was still covered in gore and sand. Anders made sure to take extra care cleaning the areas around where the wounds were. He'd only had a chance to wipe them down before healing and he wanted to make sure no complications had arisen. When he was nearly done, he picked up a honey colored vial, emptied some of its contents into the water, and began washing the dried blood stains out of white hair.

Anders needed to rest again. He stared across at the elf's serene face as he nibbled on some stale bread. He tried to piece together the rest of what had happened after he went down, but all he remembered was the Saarebas stalking towards him, Fenris' lyrium glow, and being knocked back by the qunari's spell.

A knock woke Anders a short time later, slumped over on the edge of a cot. Hawke and Varric came through the clinic door before he had time to stand up. He pulled a sheet up further over Fenris' shoulders before greeting the two men.

"How is he, doc?" Varric asked, setting a sack on the floor nearby.

"Stable. Clean. Unconscious still, but..." Anders ran shaky a hand through his hair, realizing how grimy he still was from the coast. Bits of loose sand and debris fell onto his shoulders, sticking to sweat and grime.

"You still look like shit, Anders," Hawke said with a surprisingly more concerned than sarcastic tone.

Anders remained silent.

"Brought you some supplies, food, and some of Broody's stuff. For when he wakes up."

"Thanks, Varric. Put it over there." Anders pointed to a small table in the corner across from him.

"How much longer you think he'll be out?" Hawke approached the cot Fenris was in.

"Don't know, Hawke. No way to tell, really." Anders shrugged, looking more helpless than anything.

"Listen, you get cleaned up. Get something to eat and some more rest. I'll stay here and watch over him for a bit." Hawke patted Anders on the back before he and Varric sat at Anders' table.

~~|   ~o~    |~~

Two days after returning from the coast, Anders was finally able to reopen his clinic. The demand was tiresome, but he was glad to have the distraction. He always felt good when he got to help his patients, plus it got Justice off his back for a while.

Varric and Merrill stopped by that afternoon, bringing more supplies, food, and spent some time watching over Fenris.

As the last of his patients trickled out of the clinic, Anders prepared to clean up for the night. He dropped the bundle of bandages he'd been wrapping when he heard a startling guttural sound from the back corner of his clinic. Fenris' eyes were jolting around behind his closed eyelids. As Anders checked him over, a few more half-grunt, half-moan sounds escaped him before everything subsided and the clinic was once again silent.

That night, Anders pulled his cot closer to Fenris', so that he would be alerted if anything further happened. He was glad he did when, just before dawn, more painful groaning woke Anders. He pulled up a rickety wooden chair and watched over Fenris. There still was nothing he could do, but Anders wanted to make sure it was nothing more than the elf's unconscious dreams.

Anders remained in the chair at the elf's bedside until it was time to open the clinic.

~~|   ~o~    |~~

The clinic had been bustling with patients. Anders was able to get most in and out in a timely manner, but there were a few lingering injured occupying spare cots around the clinic; a child with no one to care for him, a new mother and her infant, a drunkard with too many injuries to heal at once. Eventually, Anders had a chance to sneak back and check on Fenris. His arm was hanging over the side of the cot, nearly dragging the floor.

_Least it's something._

Anders nodded to himself as he tucked Fenris' arm back into the sheets and continued about his other patients. He snuffed the light from the lantern early, around supper time. Tonight was usually wicked grace night at the Hanged Man, but Anders wasn't comfortable leaving Fenris, unconscious and alone, in his clinic.

After supper, Anders settled back into the chair he had left by Fenris' bedside with a book. He decided to take some down time to brush up on some new potions and herb combinations. His eyes were heavy. Before he'd even made much progress into the book, he was drifting in and out between reading and realizing that he wasactually _holding_ a book, until he was pulled from sleep by the more grunting. He sat the book at his side and examined Fenris. He lifted one eyelid, then the other, inspecting his pupils. He brushed the back of his hand against the elf's forehead checking for fever. Everything seemed fine. Anders reached out with is magic, his hands hovering just inches over the Fenris' body as he ran them from his chest to his head, then back.

_I can't sense anything. Why's he still out, dammit?_

Anders sighed and dropped back down into his chair, wondering what Fenris could be dreaming about. He watched as the elf's forehead twitched, furrowing dark eyebrows. Anders reclined in the char and just stared off, lost in his thoughts about their battle on the coast.

 _Why didn't he just let that thing take me down? Why'd he even waste his time on me? He'd gladly rip the heart out of my chest any other bloody day. Maker, if he comes out of this_.

Ander was pulled from his thoughts again when Fenris' body started shaking slightly. He leaned forward and placed a hand on Fenris' shoulder as a point of reference. He was almost thrashing; jerking, grunting, and knitting his eyebrows from his dream. In an involuntary reflex, Anders reached for his magic before realizing there was _still_ nothing he could do.

Anders face fell in sorrow, pity, even. He knew all too well what it looked like; the thrashing, the heavy breathing, the sweat, and the pain.

_Nightmares._

Anders had been familiar with nightmares for the better part of his life. Living in the circle wasn't conducive of good rest. Being tortured by Templars and in solitary confinement was even less so. What's more, Anders had been utterly _cursed_ with them since his joining. From what he understood, all Grey Wardens were. More often than not, he'd wake up in a sweating, thrashing mess, terrified of everything around him. He knew how awful dreams could be, how torturous. He didn't wish that on the elf, even as much as they hated each other. Especially not since he had saved Anders' life, though he couldn't understand why.

He could see the pain in Fenris' face. He was unconscious, but dreams were often as good as real, and the effects were still there. Anders didn't know what to do. The healer in him _had_ to do _something_. He instinctively took the elf's hand in his and rubbed a thumb over rough knuckles, trying to comfort him somehow. Trying to comfort Fenris like he wished someone had been there to comfort _him_ during the worst of his dreams.

Fenris' dream seemed to become worse over the next few minutes. Anders moved to the edge of his seat and before he knew it, his hand was stroking tufts of feathery white hair. After a short while, the thrashing subsided. Anders was thankful, but didn't remove his hand right away. Instead, he remained gently tangled in the silky locks until sleep threatened him again.

~~|   ~o~    |~~

Anders lived as such for the next few days. Dozing off each night in a chair at Fenris' bedside, fully prepared to provide comfort, should the elf slip back into a nightmare. Each day Anders washed him up a bit, supplied fresh clothes and sheets, and made sure he spent a good deal of time moving the elf's muscles and joints around to prevent damage or mild atrophy. Anders worked eating, sleeping, and healing his patients around caring for the elf he owed his life to.

Hawke, Varric, Isabella, Merrill, Aveline, and Donnic all came by the clinic at some point, watching over Fenris and offering any help they could to Anders. Someone was there each day, but Hawke made it a point to visit most often. He would sit at Fenris' bedside with one of Varric's books, when he wasn't busy mingling with, or running dangerous errands for, the nobles of Kirkwall. He read to the unconscious elf while Anders bustled around the clinic. It didn't bother Anders, at first. He thought it was kind of Hawke.

By the seventh day Anders' patience was wearing thin. Not because of caring _for_ the elf, but because of his incessant _worrying_. It had been over a week since Fenris had risked his life for Anders; over a week that the elf lay in his clinic unconscious and looking vulnerable. Everything seemed fine physically, but he wasn't making any progress towards consciousness yet. Anders had begun to worry that Fenris may not come out of this for quite some time, if ever; and it would be _his_ fault. He just couldn't deal with that.

Guilt accompanied Anders' worry, nagging him at every thought of Fenris. He felt guilty that Fenris was there because he had risked himself for Anders in the first place. Guilty because he knew that Fenris would refuse to be healed by Anders and hate every minute that he had to stay in his clinic. Guilty that he knew Fenris would rip out his throat in less than a second if he knew that Anders had seen him this way, let alone offered him any semblance of comfort, or worse, pity.

Anders' magic prodded Fenris' body a little each day as he tried to find something he'd missed healing, or trying new methods he'd read about. Nothing seemed to help. The only thing that Anders did that seemed to make any difference was comforting him when his nightmares took over, and even that may have just been chance.

In a moment of self doubt, and little self pity, Anders tried to test his theory. It wasn't often that Anders questioned or besmirched his own abilities, but he needed to feel like he'd at least done _something_ for Fenris; forgetting completely that the elf was still alive and breathing, thanks to him. He wanted to see whether his comforting touches and soothing words really helped the nightmares subside, or not.

He resisted comforting Fenris during his next nightmare. He sat at his bedside, stewing and taking mental notes of the event. It appeared to be a particularly unpleasant dream when Anders noticed _more_ from Fenris than before. There was thrashing, and sweating, and grunting, and pain on his face, but now there was something _else_ in the way the corners of his mouth twitched and how each breath bottomed out.  He couldn't hold out any longer. Not once he saw streaks of fluid silently trickle down the side of the elf's face, and into his hair. Anders scooted to the edge of his chair, slowly leaned over Fenris, and wiped the tears away with the pad of his thumb.

"Shhh. It's okay. It's just a dream... Shhh, you're safe. I promise... You're safe." Anders took Fenris' hand in his and pressed it towards his own chest, still stroking the elf's cheek with the other. He couldn't stand to see Fenris like this; not while knowing that he was there, unconscious and weak, when Anders should be dead; not while knowing that the elf, who hated everything he was, would rip the still beating heart out of his chest if he knew that Anders had even touched him. He couldn't stop himself, though. He would deal with the consequences later, as he usually did for his actions, but for now, his patient needed him. _Fenris_ needed him.

Anders drifted off, slumped over in his chair, arms crossed on the cot, still gripping the elf's hand in his own.

~~|   ~o~    |~~

_A momentary flash._

_It was dark again, hot._

_A sharp pain in his head._

_Something golden brown faded to black as his eyes rolled into the back of his head._

~~|   ~o~    |~~

"I don't know what else to do, Hawke." Anders fisted his bangs, tugging slightly in frustration. "Has your contact been able to find anything useful in the circle library?"

"Anders, you know how risky it is for him to try to contact me. We're all trying out best."

"I know. I just thought, maybe..."

"I know." Hawke patted Ander's shoulder. "He'll come out of this. Don't worry. He's the most resilient person I know." Hawke chuckled. "Besides you, of course."

Hawke turned to leave, "I'm sending Varric by with some supplies later. Got his hands on a lyrium potion or two. Thought you could use"

Anders interrupted him, "you think you could have him bring by another book?"

Hawke held his arms out, palms up, and gestured towards Anders' ample, rundown bookshelves, disheveled and stuffed haphazardly with books and loose papers. "Anders, you have _tons_ of books. Look at all of these."

"They're all potions and spells. Please? Just a little something to read aloud to pass time?" Anders glanced back at Fenris.

"Ah... I'll, uh, see what I can do." Hawke was annoyed Anders had taken over reading to Fenris, but he smiled as he left anyway. He knew he had been a little too busy to stay for more than a few minutes the past few days.

~~|   ~o~    |~~

_A cool sensation over his forehead._

_Lavender. Elfroot._

_Low, comforting vibrations and tones in his hears._

_More unfocused golden brown shifting around between the darkness of his peripherals._

~~|   ~o~    |~~

Anders had just finished washing Fenris' hair when Varric arrived.

 _Such good timing. It's like he always knows._ Anders laughed as he turned to greet Varric, thankful he'd come while the lantern was still extinguished.

They talked for a moment; small talk, chit chat. Anders was good at making conversation, and Maker knows Varric was a paragon of conversation on his own. He needed it after being cooped up in his clinic for so long. Not that he didn't love it there, it was his own and he felt good about it, but there was just so much... _Darktown._

Anders was across the room in a second when he heard Fenris groan and begin thrashing in his sleep. He took the elf's hand in his, like he had so many times during the past week, and started comforting him.

"Shhh." Anders draped a cool cloth over Fenris' forehead. "...Only a dream. I'm here. You're safe." He put his hand through the elf's wet hair, lightly stroking just above his ear.

Varric stared.

Fenris' thrashing subsided after another moment. It seemed like forever to Varric. He didn't know what to do, _but_ stare. He'd not seen the elf, practically convulsing and unconscious, in one of the dreams Anders had told them about, nor had he seen Anders react in such a way. He certainly didn't _expect_ Anders to react the way he had.

Anders stared down at Fenris for a long while after he had returned to a peaceful rest, still caressing the elf's hand. He took a moment to run a finger lightly over a lyrium vein on the elf's forearm. He'd healed Fenris numerous times before, never without a struggle, but healed him nonetheless. What he _hadn't_ done, however, was consider Fenris' lyrium markings. Anders had, on very rare occasion, barely even touched the elf.

He found himself curious nonetheless. He found that, while the lines looked as if they'd feel like cool, solid glass, the lyrium in the elf's skin was warm, silky and pliable, pulsing in time with Fenris' heartbeat. Anders closed his eyes, resting the pad of his thumb against the lyrium on the bottom the elf's wrist.

He didn't even realize Varric had come to stand beside him until he spoke.

"He'll pull through, Blondie." Not much could get past Varric, not much could throw him off, but it took him a moment, or five, to gather his words.

Varric looked up at Anders, still surprised at his reaction. Anders didn't look away from the elf, but he relaxed his eyebrows and retracted his hands when he felt the dwarf's gaze upon him. He tucked Fenris back into the cot before returning to the goods Varric had brought him.

He didn't want to talk about it right now. He tried his best to act like nothing was out of the ordinary; like he hadn't been practically _stroking_ the elf's skin, of his own curiosity.

Varric took the hint. That's how it was around Varric sometimes; a dance, actions and expressions the bulk of the _real_ conversation. "Just some food and a couple of lyrium potions I got my hands on."

"I really appreciate it. Seems like it's getting harder and harder to come by." Anders stretched his neck to one side, rubbing the back of it with one hand.

"And I have this for you. Hawke caught me on my way out. Didn't know you were a fan, kid." Varric handed him a leather bound book with a throaty chuckle.

"Oh you know me, Varric. I just haven't had enough _action_ and _adventure_ in my life." Anders grinned, reading the spine of the book.

They ate and talked a while longer before Varric stood to leave. "Listen, Blondie. I know yo"

Anders held up his hand, cutting Varric off. "I owe him my life, Varric! I should be rotting in the sand on the coast and _he_ should be standing here." Anders buried his face in his hands. "I d," he stuttered and huffed into his palm, "I don't even know why he did it. He bloody _hates_ me. Told me so a thousand times."

Varric clapped a leather clad hand over Anders bicep. "Like I said, he'll come out of this. Don't you worry. You two'll be back to _bickering_ in no time."

"I... I'm sorry. I don't know what's wrong with me." Anders rubbed at the stubble covering his chin.

"The heat? Being cooped up in Darktown can do crazy things, Blondie."

"You can say that again." Anders chuckled and offered him a weak smile. "You have my thanks, Varric."

"It's nothing. Thank Hawke. You get some rest, you look like shit." Varric backhanded Anders' shoulder again before leaving with a smile. A massive smile. A devious smile. A knowing smile.

~~|   ~o~    |~~

_A comforting hum thorough his ears, soothing and constant._

_A bright flash as he lifted an eyelid._

_Glassy, russet brown._

_His name._

_Golden light swirling around, unfocused._

_Lavender. Elfroot._

_His name._

~~|   ~o~    |~~

"Fenris... Fenris?" Anders leaned over the elf's face, griping his hand close to his own chest. "Fenris, can you hear me? Please, Fenris."

"Please..."

Anders slumped back down into his chair, covering his face with his hands as he hung his head.

_Verdammt. He opened his eyes. I saw it. I know he did. He had to... Bloody Maker, Fenris, please wake up._

Anders told Hawke and Merrill about what happened; how he _knew_ he saw Fenris' eyes open for a brief second. They looked at him with concerned expressions.

"Why don't you get together with everyone at the Hanged Man tonight? It'll be good for you."

"I can't leave him now. I"

"I'll stay and watch over him for a few hours. You need a break." Hawke could tell how frayed Anders was. Anders had a way of going on and on and on when he began to unravel, just as he had while he'd been talking to Hawke about remaining with Fenris.

"No, Hawke. I need to be here in case he does wake up and something's wrong. I'm not leaving. Not now that he's made some kind of progress!"

"Anders, please." Merrill put a hand on his shoulder. "I promise he'll be okay, just for a few hours. If you want I cou"

"No, Merrilll. You can't promise that. You don't know that." Anders was out of patience from the day's events. "Please. Please just go. I'll talk to you guys tomorrow. Please. I'm exhausted."

"Fine... You _better_ get some rest tonight. I'm not letting you drive yourself any _crazier_ over this." Hawke's words had a certain bite to them. He grabbed Merrilll's hand and hulked towards the door. "I'll be back in the morning..." Hawke slammed the door upon leaving. Anders shook his head. He knew how much Hawke hated being unable to get people to do whatever _he_ wanted, whenever _he_ wanted.

Anders scooted his chair up beside Fenris' cot and started to read where he had left off. He really was exhausted, like he'd told Hawke, but he couldn't afford to fall asleep right now. He needed to see if Fenris would open his eyes again, or move, or say something, or _anything_.

Anders fell asleep, head back, book open across his chest, sweat practically gluing the pages to skin.

~~|   ~o~    |~~

_His eyes opened, unfocused and aching._

_His back hurt as he shakily shifted onto his side._

_Lavender. Elfroot. A tickle across his nose._

_A mess of blurry figures._

_Sleep._

~~|   ~o~    |~~

Anders woke to find Fenris sleeping on his side, facing him. He was overjoyed. It was the first time Fenris had moved of his own volition, that wasn't thrashing from a dream. He stood, chucked the book to the floor and hovered over the elf. He examined him for a moment before placing a hand on his shoulder, shaking him very lightly.

"Fenris... Fenris. Can you hear me?"

Nothing.

Anders wet a clean cloth and wiped down the elf's forehead. "Fenris, wake up." He said hopefully.

Fenris groaned. Anders' face lit up. He wiped down Fenris' cheeks, then brushed the cloth back over his hair, removing it from obscuring his face. "Fenris. Can you hear me?" Anders shook his shoulder again, a little harder this time.

Fenris groaned once more and turned his head the other way.

"Fenris," Anders said more urgently, shaking him harder. "Can you hear me?"

Fenris turned his head back towards the sound as he tried to open his eyes. They hurt; sharp pains from behind them. He weakly moved an arm up to cover his face.

"Oh Maker, Fenris. You're awake? Please be awake." Anders' tone was on the meek side, hopeful and a touch sad at the same time.

"Hnnn." Fenris tried to acknowledged the voice.

"Oh thank the Maker. Sweet Devine, Fenris, you're awake!" Anders stood upright and ran a hand through his hair with massive sigh of relief. It felt like a bronto had finally stepped off of his chest. He forced himself to take a moment to slow his rushing thoughts before proceeding.

Fenris tried to sit up, still covering his sore eyes, but felt a pressure over the pain and tightness in his chest. "Shhh. You need to get up slow." Anders put his hand on Fenris' chest to prevent him from hurting himself.

"Hhnng." Fenris flattened back out on the cot. He felt something cool and wet against his lips.

"Drink. Just a sip, then we can get you sitting upright."

Fenris tried to bring his hand up to grip the cup, but he was still a little too disoriented to use his coordination.

Anders wrapped his arm around Fenris' shoulders and pulled upwards lightly, letting Fenris use his own fallow muscles to try to sit up.

"M-mage?" Fenris mumbled. His voice was extremely gruff from dormancy.

"Yeah. It's me..." Anders didn't know what to expect and, for once, didn't know what to say. He was silent for a while, still helping support Fenris as he sat upright on the cot. Anders' thoughts were swimming and the throbbing in his temples was quite unkind.

Fenris shifted with the mage's arm around his shoulders. He grunted as he set himself in motion again, trying to maneuver himself to the edge of the cot.

Anders aided him, helping Fenris get his feet onto the floor in front of where he sat. Fenris was hunched over, head down, with his hair in his face. Anders wanted to know so badly what he was thinking, but he needed to give Fenris time to adjust.

"You're at the clinic." Anders said after they'd sat there for a good while.

"Hnnng." Fenris groaned again, turning his head towards the mage. "How long have I been here?" It came out slow and just as gruff as the last time he'd spoke.

"Uhm... Ten days, today." Anders kept his voice low and spoke cautiously. He wrung his hands together trying to relieve some of the tension he felt within himself. 

"What?" Fenris asked as sharply as he could.

"Ten days, now. You were unconscious... I..."

"Take me home." Fenris spoke more softly now, barely a low grumble.

"Fenris... I don't think that's a good idea. I should watch ove"

"Mage," Fenris interrupted "Take. Me. Home."

Anders stood up from the cot and gathered some of Fenris' things. He was hurt somehow, for some unknown reason, though, he kept himself from the realization, even if it _did_ mean more pent up anger. He returned to help Fenris stand. His legs were shaky, but he was moving better than Anders had expected. He provided Fenris with a pair of his leggings and a black tunic for him to change into, glad that Varric had brought them.

Fenris was behind the curtain a long time before emerging, signaling to Anders that he was ready to go. Anders scribbled a note down and set it in the most visible place from the door.

 

 

 

 

> _Hawke,_
> 
> _Fenris came-to early this morning, thank the Maker.  
>  He is making me take him home, but he needs to be watched. You know how he is. Meet me at his mansion as soon as possible. _
> 
> _-Anders  
> _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Verdammt: Damn it (German)


	3. Chapter 3

Fenris woke in his own bed, sweating and tangled with his sheets. He threw an arm over his eyes in an attempt to dull the pain in his head. _That_ _noise!_ He rolled around a few times before he tried to sit up. He was dizzy, unused to being vertical.

He looked up. It was the dead of night and hotter than ever. Fenris peered around the room in an attempt to locate the source of the noise. He spotted a figure sitting in a high-backed chair by the unlit hearth. Hawke, snoring louder than he had ever heard. Maker, it was annoying and killing his head. Fenris stood on shaky limbs and went to wake Hawke.

"Fenris! Maker, I'm glad to see you up!" Hawke sounded incredibly relieved, raising himself upright in the chair. "It's been... What time is it? Maker, it's late." Hawke groaned as he stood, rubbing his face. "Here, you sit."Fenris took the seat while Hawke brought over another chair for himself.

"You've been out for some time. We were all getting worried."

"Indeed. Ten days, was it?"

"Yeah. How are you feeling?" Hawke rubbed the sides of his eyes where the skin crinkled when the laughed.

"Fine. A little disoriented, but... I am well." Fenris slid a hand over his face. "Wha- what happened, Garrett?"

"What do you remember?" Hawke shifted uncomfortably in his chair. He was kind of hoping this burden would fall on Anders. He was receptive and prepared nonetheless.

"I remember being on the Wounded Coast. I remember camp. Fighting Tal-Vashoth. I... I remember th. I cannot recall much else." Fenris shook his head and looked down into his lap.

"We were fighting faction after faction of Tal-Vashoth throughout our search of the Wounded Coast. We had finally found the girl when two groups ambushed, nearly at the same time." Hawke sighed and shifted again. "We were almost overwhelmed when bandits attacked too. Varric was running low on bolts, I was exhausted, out of stamina, and Anders... Anders had no mana left. Apparently he had been isolated by a Saarebas, but none of us were aware. He... You stepped in between the qunari and Anders as it went to deal the final blow."

Fenris screwed up his face, taking on a defensive expression, confused and overwhelmed by the story Hawke was telling him.

Hawke continued. "He said you came out of nowhere and were just... there. Anders remembers you screaming as you drove your sword straight through the Saarebas' chest. There was a blast. After the blast he can't remember it very clearly. We regrouped a ways from where we went back to find you. You were in bad shape."

Fenris shook his head. "I... cannot recall this. I... continue, please."

"Anders had nothing left. He was a mess. Fenris, I've never seen him like that before."

Fenris' features contorted more as he tried to look down even further, bringing his hands together in his lap.

"We carried you straight through, back to the clinic. He stopped to heal you whenever he felt any amount of mana had been restored. Once we got you to the clinic... what a relief that was. We were all so exhausted. Anders used his entire stock of lyrium to heal you. Risked poisoning himself. He healed you until he dropped onto the floor, Fenris literally. It was... I don't know. I felt badly for him."

Fenris thought for a moment. "You left me with the mage all... I was _there_ , in his clinic? This whole time?" He didn't look up.

"I... Yes. What were we suppose to do, Fenris? He's certainly the most capable. You were _unconscious_. You needed a healer. What were we suppose to do?" Hawke sighed.

_I knew he would be upset at being left there. Maker, I wish they'd get over this._

"I do not know, but..."

"But what? You would have left any of us with Anders too, if we needed his expertise."

"I suppose there is validity there, I just... It always comes down to _magic_." Fenris spat out the last word with inconsolable venom.

Hawke sighed again and wiped some sweat off of his forehead.

"I do not wish to discuss this further. Maybe later." Fenris needed to think about something else.

"I'm sure you're hungry. Anders said he did his best, but..." Hawke trailed off when Fenris shot him a glare at the mention of the mage's name. "Right. Well, let's get you something to eat. We should go to the estate. Anything you have here is long spoiled. Would you mind staying there for a few days? Just until everything is back to normal?"

"Tonight would be acceptable. Let me gather a few things."

~~|   ~o~    |~~

Anders closed the clinic early. He was exhausted and had been having trouble focusing all day. It was late before he realized he hadn't eaten anything. His stomach grumbled and he almost doubled over. He used to be able to go without eating, but since Hawke and Varric had been providing him with so many supplies and so much food, he wasn't able go as long anymore.

Anders heated some stew Merrill had brought the day before. The clinic was quiet and... strange. He was lost in his thoughts as he ate; worrying about how Hawke was handling Fenris; worrying about how mad Fenris was about being left in his care. Anders knew Fenris would be upset about it. He and Hawke had discussed it multiple times while the elf was still unconscious. Why should he care if Fenris was upset, though? He didn't, _of course_. Anders frowned down into his stew as he lost his appetite, deciding that he was more tired than hungry.

Anders tried to push the thoughts away as he laid in his cot, sweating, trying to get some sleep. He was exhausted. He hadn't slept in a proper bed since before their trip to the Wounded Coast, and even then, his cot was hardly a _proper_ bed. It wasn't a wooden chair, and he was thankful for that. He laid on his back, one arm tucked behind his head, drumming on his chest with his fingers as he finally drifted off to sleep.

~~|   ~o~    |~~

Anders had cast his last firestorm. He was exhausted, slumped over, even as he saw another assailant approaching his on his left.

_Shit. More Saarebas. Great._

Anders reached deep within himself to find the strength for one more defensive spell. He felt the magic coursing through his body, flowing outwards towards his arms, down to his hands and... died. Right there on his fingertips. He panicked.

Anders looked up in terror as he tumbled to the ground, prepared to meet the Maker himself. He shielded himself, primed for a lethal blow when one did not come. Instead, he heard a scream. He saw radiant blue and felt more relief than terror.

He stood and dusted sand off of his robes. "Fenris! Thank the Maker you" Fenris was upon him in a split second, gripping his throat tight. Anders couldn't breathe.

"I saved you..." Fenris gripped tighter drawing blood from Anders' neck, "so I could kill you myself, _mage_!" Fenris screamed as he plunged his other hand straight into Anders' chest. The pain was unbearably intense. Anders clawed at the elf's arm, phased and buried elbow-deep in his chest. Fenris wrapped his hand around the mage's heart, gripped it tight, and let lose an evil grin just before he ripped it out and threw it into the sand.

~~|   ~o~    |~~

"Scheiße!" Anders was momentarily terrified, panting and sweating profusely. He found himself sprawled out beside his cot on the dirt floor of his clinic. Blood stained his hand where he'd just rubbed the back of his head. He tussled his hair angrily, hurting himself more.

_What in the Void was that all about. Maker, my head._

Anders rubbed his head again as he sat back in the cot. He couldn't get back to sleep after that.

~~|   ~o~    |~~

Fenris was exhausted again. Nearly everyone had come by Hawke's estate at some point that day. _"How are you, Fenris? I'm glad you're okay, Fenris;"_ countless questions and comforting pats on the shoulder. Fenris flinched and shrank away from each one, like their touch was acid to his skin. He wasn't use to all the attention. He didn't like it, either.

Fenris stubbornly returned to his mansion that night, bathed, and fell right into his bed. Once he hit the sheets, he was only awake long enough to roll onto his stomach and nestle his face down into the feather stuffed pillow. He slung one arm under it and was enveloped by a calming scent not native to his mansion. Thoroughly contented, Fenris dreamt, but they were insignificant dreams. Not dreams at all, really, just flashes of a dream; an image, a light, a feeling he couldn't place, a ghost of a gentle touch, the comfort of a soothing voice, which he was equally helpless to place.

Fenris woke late into the next day. It was about midday when Hawke showed up with some things from the market stalls for him. They talked and Fenris ate a little, distracted, still trying to get his body back into a familiar routine.

"Went to see Anders this morning." Hawke had an expectant look on his face.

"Hnng." Fenris went with a standby grunt meant purely for acknowledgment.

Hawke gave up right then. Hawke was a strong man in every sense of the word, stubborn too, but in a battle of wills, Fenris would surely win over anyone he knew.

"So, I know you're still recovering, but it's wicked grace night." Hawke held out the _'i'_ in night much longer than he needed to, especially with Fenris, who rolled his eyes.

"So it is."

"So... You should think about coming. No drinking or anything, but it would do you some good to get out and to see everyone." Hawke smiled and clapped his hands, rubbing them together as he finished.  "Varric suggested it. It's a great idea, the man's full of 'em." Hawke chuckled.  

Fenris remained silent for another moment, chewing on a pastry that Hawke had brought him. He hadn't been back to the Hanged Man since he'd finally become a free man. After killing Danarius there, he wasn't sure he'd ever want to go back. He wasn't sure _now_ , but...

"Meet me here after nightfall. We will go together, if I _must_." Fenris didn't have much of a reaction, but Hawke suspected part of him wanted to go just as much as Hawke wanted him to, if for no other reason than to regain a sense of normalcy. Despite what Fenris liked to believe, he was readable _sometimes_... Sometimes meaning rarely, and rarely meaning only by _very_ capable rogues.

~~|   ~o~    |~~

Fenris arrived at the Hanged Man in full armor, broadsword painfully strapped to his back like he hadn't spent the past week and a half apart from the rest of the world. Hawke, more distraught by the heat, sported a silken crimson shirt, half unlaced, showing off just the right amount of black chest hair, and lightweight, black trousers tucked into tall leather boots. Merrilll and Isabela jumped up when they appeared in the door to Varric's suite.

"Glad to see you up and out, Broody," Varric jeered, earning himself a customary glare from Fenris.

"Aren't we all." Hawke took his seat between Isabela and Merrill. He grabbed Isabela's mug, finished the rest of her brew, and wiped his mouth on the back of his hand.

Varric dealt out the first round of wicked grace for the night. The played, they talked, they drank. It was, Fenris thought, almost something wholly his own.

"I hate to spoil the mood," Aveline began, "but, Fenris, my ability to keep the seneschal from noticing the state of your... mansion, is nearing an end."

"Always on duty, eh, captain?" Hawke poked fun at Aveline's conviction to her position. "Really, though, Fenris, it wouldn't kill you to clean up the place a little. You'd get more visitors. One or two _less_ rotting corpses never hurt anything."

"Tchtt." Fenris shook his head at Hawke. "I appreciate all you have done, Aveline." Fenris looked back down at his hand. It was crap. He planned to fold first chance.

"You don't need to stay in that _pit_ anymore, ya know. I mean, you could go anywhere." Varric lifted his mug, gesturing it towards Fenris before he drank.

"Perhaps I do not wish to go anywhere."

"Ya gotta do somethin'."

"I will do what I please."

With that, the conversation died out, leaving Fenris wondering what he really _was_ going to do. If Aveline was alerting him, he'd have to do something or be forced to move on.

 _It is all I really have now_... _Perhaps I could mend the roof._

After their second hand, Aveline stood and took everyone's requests. It was her turn to get the rounds, and a water for Fenris, of course. When she flung the door open to head down the steps to the bar, Anders plowed right into her. She stumbled back through the doorway, while Anders doubled over, trying to gain his balance back. Donnic stood up faster than a man in all that armor should have been able to move. He sat back down when he realized it was _just_ Anders.

"Oh, sweet thing." Isabela put her hand on Donnic's arm once he sat back down. She laughed at him for being so concerned over _Aveline_ , of all people.

"Hands off, whore." Aveline pointed toward Isabela and stomped out the door, purposely bumping her armored shoulder into Anders.

Anders' face was flushed, his shoulders scrunched together and raised. He self-consciously tucked some loose hair behind his ear. He wasn't usually embarrassed easily, but that was pretty bad. It had _nothing_  to do with the fact that Fenris was sitting _right_ there, of course. Laughter broke out when he went to sit, still a little flustered, and almost missed his chair completely. Varric shook his head, slid half an ale his way and dealt him in.

Anders glanced over at Fenris who was staring down at his cards, but he wasn't _looking_ at them. He looked like he was off somewhere else. Anders wanted to check him over again. He knew the elf was probably fine, and there was nothing he could do, and there was nothing that Fenris would _let_ him do. Anders tried to ignore Fenris' presence in the room when he briefly remembered the dream where he'd had his heart thrown into the sand.

"Hungry, elf?" Varric stood as he prepared to go down to the bar. Fenris nodded and made to accompany him. Isabela was sitting on the bed braiding small strands in Merrill's short black hair. They'd all had enough wicked grace for the night and had taken to Varric's storytelling; sharing comments, jabs, and quips with, and at, each other, as they always did on late nights at the Hanged Man. Hawke turned to Anders once the door closed behind Varric and Fenris.

"You should talk to him, Anders." Hawke was his usual smug self, like _he_ had all the answers. "You've looked troubled all night... and creepy. Definitely creepy."

"I'm fine, Haw ~~~~Wait... creepy?" Anders looked thoroughly confused.

"Eh, yeah. Little bit. You keep bloody _staring_ and he's likely to take your blighted head off! That just won't do, Anders. No, not at all." Hawke finished with a mock pout. Isabela laughed at the two of them; Anders' befuddled reaction and Hawke's smug amusement, tipping back in his chair.

Anders made an exaggerated annoyed noise. "Wasn't _bloody_ staring, you git," Anders said under his breath, crossing his arms. "I just didn't get much sleep last night." He ran a hand through his hair, "besides, I know he doesn't want to talk about it."

"True. True." Hawke paused a long while, tipping back in his chair once more. "You _do,_ though."

"You should, Anders. He _might_ want to talk about it," Merrilll said innocently, truly believing it was a possibility. Anders knew it wasn't, actually, everyone else in the room knew it wasn't.

"Hawke, I just... Can we just drop it?"

"Go..." Hawke sternly gestured towards the door. "Varric's down there to diffuse the situation. Just get it out of your system and you can move on." Hawke propped his feet up on the table before he turned his head to reignite the conversation he was having with Donnic about his muttonchops.

Anders stomped out of the room with his fists clenched at his side. Everyone ignored his hissy fit, much to his dismay. He stalked down towards the elf, who was sitting at the bar waiting for Varric to finish talking to some _clients_ at a distant table.

Anders sat and held up his hand to Corff. He'd had enough for the night; any more and Justice would start harassing him. He kicked his dangling leg against the stool as the two of them sat in silence. Anders was staring at the elf out of his peripherals, so he saw when Fenris started to get agitated. It didn't take long. He kept kicking his foot against the stool anyway.

"Will you desist!" Fenris crossed his arms over the bar, practically growling at Anders.

Anders huffed immaturely. "Whatever." He didn't know what to say, but he knew _'whatever'_ wasn't it. This was all they knew, at least while they were both conscious; bickering, annoying, fighting. It was the only _comfortable_ thing about being around one another, if you could even count it as such.

Anders let lose a massive sigh. "Listen, I...

Fenris interrupted him. "I will not have this kind of debt between us, mage. Not when you can hold it over me. Tell me what you wish, and we will be even once more." Fenris tapped a taloned gauntlet into the wood.

"Debt? There is no debt beyond the one _I_ owe _you_ ," Anders said sharply, hiding his confusion.

"Do not toy with me, mage. I am in no mood."

"Fenris... Maker." Anders sighed and shifted on his stool. "You saved my damn life. Just let me make it up to you."

"I did no such thing. We fought a battle and you healed me. If you wish nothing in return, so be it." Fenris' tone was impatient and uncomfortable. He didn't want to talk about it. He didn't want to talk, period, especially not to the mage.

"Fenris. I watched you... I saw what you did. I was _there_."

"I was there too, and there is nothing _more_ to discuss."

"So you have all of your memory? I was wond" Anders stopped talking when Fenris got up and started towards to the stairs.

Anders rushed over and slid in front of him.

Fenris' eyes widened a little. There it was again. The lavender and elfroot he recognized from his dream flashes, whatever they were; Fenris didn't know. Yes, he recognized the lavender and the elfroot, but now there was something _more_. He filed it away, too frustrated and sore to care at the time, but still aware of how much he wanted to put together what little he remembered since the coast. Anders shifted in front of him again and the scent grew even stronger.

Fenris attempted to dodge around Anders, only to have Anders move in front of him again. In one swift motion, he thrust his right arm straight out and placed his palm flat against the sidewall of the staircase, so that Fenris couldn't make it past.

"For the Maker's sake, Fenris! I just wanted to _thank you_!" Anders said it a little louder than he'd meant to. A few patrons turned to stare at them. Anders shot them a rather immature look to deter their gazes.

"There is no need. _Move!_ " Fenris' eyes narrowed and he dodged to the left again to squeeze past the mage.

Anders stormed out of the Hanged Man without another word.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Scheiße: Shit/crap (German)


	4. Chapter 4

After hours of turmoil and no sleep, Fenris resigned contemplating the events of their journey to the Wounded Coast. He shifted in his bed, too large and too small at the same time. After kicking the sheets to his ankles, he rolled onto his stomach and buried his face into his pillow, just as he did every night. Aggravated and restless, he huffed into the long flattened materials. He opened his eyes and blinked as he cocked his head to one side to breathe better. Lavender, again. Elfroot, again. Something... _something_ familiar was missing now. Fenris huffed once more, turning his head back into the pillow to ascertain from where the scent might have came. He inhaled again, remembering flashes of dreams, remembering the combination.

Fenris' eyes shot open as he recalled the mage sliding in front of him on the stairs at the Hanged Man. At the time, he'd been too frustrated and far too anxious to end his conversation with him to consider the familiarity of the scent. Fenris rolled his head back into the pillow, sighing this time. Much less of a content sigh than an irritated one, despite the peculiar way the lavender and elfroot seemed to wrap around him, comforting and calming. He closed his eyes and felt an unfamiliar sensation present itself just under his collarbone, spreading over his chest, over his ribs. Soon, Fenris was sleeping and, though it was already nearly first light, he rested well.

~~|   ~o~    |~~

The walk to Darktown was fairly silent. Fenris left his sword behind, after a short struggle with Hawke, of course. His sword, he found, was an unbearable weight strapped to his back; the leather scabbard applying too much pressure against his chest. He was still quite sore from some of his his injuries. He cursed himself with each step that carried him down into Darktown.

"Hawke! To what do I owe the pleasu Oh, hello, Fenris."

"Mage," Fenris managed to growl out, hating every second of what was to come.

The lantern was lit when they arrived at the clinic, though there weren't nearly as many people as he'd seen in Anders' care before. "Dinner?" Hawke asked, nosily rummaging through Anders' desk.

"You caught me at a good time. I'm starved." Anders shuffled around his shelves, collecting cloths and herbs. "Let me finish up here," Anders gestured towards the few patients in the clinic, swirling his hand in a circle. "Mind getting the lantern?"

Though, he was talking to Hawke, Fenris was the first to react and turned to the door to extinguished the light. He _was_ closer.

Anders finished caring for two men and a mother with a young girl. Fenris watched, perched on a stack of crates near the door, both Hawke and Anders were oblivious to his gaze.

Fenris watched intently as Anders cared for the girl. He was gentle with her, distracting both her and her mother as he set the bones in her leg.  

 _That_ voice, the one from his dream, the one he wasn't able to place; comforting, warm, and soothing. Fenris knitted his brows. His eyes unfocused as he thought to himself. It _had_ been the mage all along. He had never heard that particular tone from the man before or since, until now, at least. Fenris shifted his shoulders trying to shake whatever it was that had crept up on him, along with, he suspected, some of the pain in his torso.

When he was finished mending bone and muscle, Anders looked drained. The girl jumped off of the table and into his lap, where she threw her arms around his neck. He smiled, a genuine grin that covered his entire face. Fenris found himself shifting his eyes to his lap, feeling uncomfortable, and fidgeted with his taloned gauntlets. They scurried out the door with nothing less than a thousand _"thanks"_ from the mother. Anders looked at Hawke and shrugged, "so what brings you by?"

Hawke shut the drawers he'd opened in Anders' desk, setting the quill back beside the inkwell. "Actually," he said folding a piece of parchment into his pocket, "I have business down here this evening."

"That so?"

"Yep. Just brought ol' Fenris here along because I believe he needs to speak with you." Hawke winked back at Fenris who, in turn, shot him a seething glare.  

"Hawke," Fenris warned, through clenched teeth.

"Okay, okay. Just give him some herbs, a potion, or whatever. I'll be back shortly." Hawke threw up a hand in a dismissive manner and sighed. He was already over dealing with their issues.

Fenris remained seated on the crates, trying to act for all the world like he _wasn't_ in pain and _didn't_ want relief.

"Hawke, don't toy with me. I have patients I could be getting to." Anders ran a hand through his hair. He looked tired.

"Just try not to kill each other while I'm gone. When I return we can get that dinner, mmkay?" With that, Hawke made his way out the door.

Fenris sat peevishly on the stack of crates. Anders made about his clinic in silence, cleaning from the day's patients, putting supplies back onto rickety shelves.

Finally, he couldn't take the silence anymore. "Why'd Hawke bring you by? He said something about a potion? Some herbs?"

Fenris remained petulant, still fidgeting with his gauntlets. Anders sighed. Another short while passed before Fenris decided to break his standoff.

"I am... in need of your assistance, mage." Fenris finally looked up.

Anders was leaning casually against his desk, picking at his robes. He was a startled out of his idle fussing when Fenris finally spoke. Anders ran a hand through his sweat-dampened hair to mask any evidence. He leaned back further and placed his palms on the edge, drumming his fingers underneath the desk.

"Out with it, then." Anders grinned, trying to be pleasant. He'd never admit it aloud, scarcely to himself, but he was rather glad to see Fenris. Just glad to see he was still okay, really... _right?_

"I am having some... discomfort. I came seeking something to remedy it."

"Come," Anders tilted his head towards the back of the clinic. Fenris remained on the crates. Anders sighed when he noticed. "Fenris, please. I can't fix it if I don't at least _look_ at it."

Fenris finally stood and made his way to the back of the clinic. "I just need a potion for the pain."

"I'd really like to check it out. Make sure everything is healing properly. I can't choose the right cure or tonic without knowing what kind of pain you're in."

"My chest," Fenris began, adjusting his breastplate, "and my back." He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, obviously quite uncomfortable.

Anders held his hand out towards an empty cot where, surprisingly, Fenris obliged Anders, and sat. "May I?" he questioned, reaching for the clasp on Fenris' breastplate. Fenris made to remove the straps himself, shucking his armor.

Fenris described his pain a little, begrudgingly, of course, and showed Anders what hurt, where, and how. Anders was surprised when Fenris let him press around on the muscles surrounding his old wounds. When he was done examining the elf's troubled chest and back he stood there for a moment before placing his hands on Fenris' shoulders. He squeezed, digging his thumbs in just above jutting shoulder blades.

Fenris let out an involuntary grunt and stretched his neck to one side before Anders squeezed again, testing the waters, applying more pressure. Fenris shot up off of the cot and straightened his jerkin. "Do not touch me needlessly, _mage_!" Fenris wasn't impressed with Anders taking liberties, but even he couldn't deny that it _felt_ good.

"I was just... It would help. Loosen the muscle... make you feel a lot better. I didn't mean to..." Anders' face flushed. He tucked some hair that had fallen loose of its tie back behind his ear, but it didn't remain there.

 _Makers breath, Anders. Of all the stupid fucking thin_

"Enough! I require the remedy and I will be on my way." Fenris strapped the rest of his armor back on before crossing his arms.

"I'll have to mix it for you. It'll just be a moment." Anders turned to his basin and gathered some materials. He cursed himself as he began preparing the concoction. Fenris paced in the small open area of the clinic, hoping Hawke would come in at any moment.

"Listen, I never _really_ got to talk to you about what happened a few weeks back."

"So... what of it?"

"I... It's just, you risked your life for me. I had nothing left, I... well... when Varric found you Why?"

"Why what? Your question is incomprehensible."

Anders made and aggravated grunt and ran a hand through his hair again, readying some herbs for the mixture he was creating. "Why did you try to save me?"

"I did not."

"You did!" Anders raised his voice and sat the glass bottle down harder than he meant to. "Why must you make everything so _difficult_?"

"I do not!"

" _See!_ For Maker's sake, Fenris!"

Fenris stilled. "What do you want me to say?!" Fenris raised his voice as well, sounding extremely defensive. He felt a flush over his face, similar to the one felt when the last step of a staircase is missed. He briefly envisioned the battlefield, remembering the qunari and the pain of the blast.

"Fenris, please. I just want to talk." Fenris began towards the door. Anders made to grab his arm to turn him around. He jerked away, squinting his eyes as he twisted the muscles in his abdomen and back.

"Do not touch me, mage!" Fenris seemed beside himself. He stalked towards the door.

"Maker, Fenris! Do you _hate_ me so much to even talk?" Anders flashed from hurt to anger quickly in light of Fenris' petulance.

Fenris growled something barely audible in Arcanum, "ego non _oderunt_ vos." Fenris paused and raised his vioce before adding, "vos _morionem!_ "

Andders stopped a moment, desperately trying to remember the Arcanum Karl had forced on him in the circle. _Morionem, _he thought to himself.__ _Morionem_... _Morione_ _mmorionem_ _morionem..._ _Morionem_ _! Ugh._

Anders furrowed his brow. " _Herrgk._ Fine! Leave! What do I bloody care! I just spent nearly two weeks caring for your unconscious, ungrateful, half-dead ass. It's not like you _owe_ me an explanation."

Fenris was on him in a second, hands gripping his biceps, squishing his arms together. "I owe you _nothing_ , mage!" Fenris stopped in that position, taking notice of how much taller Anders was. A good head at least. Fenris hadn't really noticed the extent of their height difference until now. Of course, they'd scarcely been so close to one another. He shook Anders once and flung him back before stalking toward the door again.

Fenris hooked his hand on the side of a crate filled with glass vials and potions, and flung it to the floor in a moment of regrettable rage, shattering most of its contents.

"What the fuck, Fenris! Pick it up! Now!"

"No." Fenris said flatly as he continued for the door.

"You can't just destroy my stuff! My patients need these!"

"Can't I?" Fenris said with an evil sneer. He hooked his hand into another crate on a stack. He flung it to the floor, just as he had the first one. Another toppled over after the disturbance and more glass shattered, leaking a mixture of colored liquids onto the ground.

"Damn it, Fenris! What is _wrong_ with you?!" Anders took off towards Fenris, who knocked a mile high stack of papers onto the soaked dirt floor in a flurry. "You'll pay for that!" He shoved Fenris, causing him to stumble back towards the door. "Do. Not. Touch. Me!" Fenris screamed as the stalked towards the mage again.

"What, like this?" Anders pushed the aggressive elf once more. Fenris unleashed a threatening growl as he regained his balance. Anders regretted it the moment he did it, but his fury prevented him from caring, for the moment, at least.

"I said," Fenris took two massive steps toward the mage, shoving him into a bookcase, "do not touch me." Fenris' voice was lower than Anders had ever heard it. It was so low, in fact, that Anders _felt_ Fenris' voice rumble and growl out each syllable, more than he'd heard it.

Fenris was barely inches from his face, though he was merely eye level with the mage's chin. Anders saw something in Fenris' eyes when looked down into them. Anger, definitely, but it didn't burn through Anders like it had when they'd fought many times before. Something else lingered in that glare. Sadness, maybe even turmoil. Uncertainty? Anders couldn't place it. He just stared for a moment, trying to figure out Fenris' angle.

Fenris held the mage there for precious moments longer than necessary, enveloped in the familiar scent of Anders; the lavender and elfroot based scent he'd been cursed with since recovering. Being this close to Anders, he could sense the whole of it. The lavender and elfroot, yes, but there was something _more_ ; something wholly _Anders._ He smelled of earth, both sour and sweet, comforting and unwelcoming; a tinge of sweat and summer heat, freshly cut herbs, and... _apples? Grapes?_ Fenris couldn't quite pin everything down. All he knew was that, despite his anger, he needed to draw himself closer. Not for the tactical advantage, not because he could, but because he _wanted_ to.

Fenris screwed up his face and pulled off of him before he pursued the door once more. Anders should have kept his mouth shut, but can he _ever?_   "Just wanted to talk," Anders mumbled, half under his breath as he straightened his white tunic.

Fenris turned and flipped a cot over, breaking some of the legs and a support rod. Anders rushed up to him, even angrier that more of his clinic had been destroyed. Fenris' chest was heaving as Anders got in his face, but Fenris didn't make a move. Anders panicked and took the opportunity to punch him square in the face, thinking that Fenris was prepared to do the same to him. Fenris yelled and grabbed the mage's wrists, shoving Anders back into another unleveled bookcase.

Anders fought back, pushing against Fenris, twisting his wrists to free himself. Finally, he used all of his force and pushed off of the bookshelf with one foot, causing Fenris to let him loose and stumble onto the floor backwards. The bookshelf, already worse for wear, toppled over from the force, falling forward onto Fenris.

Of course, Hawke struts back into the clinic at that exact moment, just in time to catch an avalanche of papers and books settle onto the ground.

"WHAT IN THE VOID IS GOING _ON_ IN HERE!" Hawke's voice thundered in the small clinic. Fenris shifted under the debris of the bookshelf. "Fenris, Maker!" He ran over to help Fenris out of the mound, but he knocked Hawke's hands away. He stood, straightened himself, and headed towards the door.

Anders ran in front of it, pressing his back and palms against it, "No you don't! You're going to stay and deal with this!" Anders' words came out with less disdain than he'd planned. He felt badly for the shelves toppling onto Fenris, despite everything else. He just wished it hadn't come out in his voice.

Fenris stared straight into Anders' eyes and moved his hand to rest on the nearby desk, tapping a metal claws against a delicate glass flask. Slowly, the single flask scraped across the marred wood of the desk until glass shattered on the floor at Fenris' feet.

Hawke shot Fenris a lethal glare. "This is getting ridiculous. I leave you two for twenty bloody minutes and come back to a half-ruined clinic!"

"In all fairness, _he_ started it..." Anders mumbled, pointing towards Fenris.

"Dear Maker, Anders. _Really!?_ " Hawke pinched the bridge of his chiseled nose.

They all remained for a moment, silent and still, while Hawke gathered his thoughts. Fenris shifted his weight nervously from foot to foot. His eye was beginning to blacken already, but the small amount of shame he felt burning in the back of his mind was much worse. He was uneasy under Hawke's scrutiny. He didn't relish disappointing Hawke; he liked letting his anger get the best of him even less.

Finally, Hawke spoke, "Anders, I'll buy you potions to replace what was lost. You two"

"You cannot simply _buy_ more of those! I made each one myself m-my own recipes!"

Hawke held his hands up, "Fine! Fine! I'll..." he paused, "Fenris, _you._ " He pointed over Fenris' way, then back to the bulk of the clinic's damage. " _You_ help Anders remake those potions. Fix this all up; it's _your_ _guys'_ mess!" Hawke paused for a moment, turning around, "and so help me, if harm comes to either of you!" Hawke gritted his teeth and clenched his fists.

Anders remained uncharacteristically silent. Fenris made to protest, but was stopped mid sentence when Hawke threw his hands over his ears, yelled _"Nope,"_ and made his way back out the door. 

  ~~|   ~o~    |~~

The clinic was deathly silent. Anders flopped onto the floor beside the wrecked bookshelf. He sat with his legs outstretched, his knees up just enough for his forearms to rest on them, holding a piece of loose paper between both hands. He stared at it, trying to make sense of everything; trying to remind himself that all of this _had_ actually happened and that he really did have to clean all of it up still. He sighed and wiped sweat from his forehead.

Fenris remained standing. He hadn't moved or made a sound since Hawke had left.

Anders shuffled around in the books, more looking at each one than trying to clean them up. The intense awkwardness was far too distracting, lingering heavily in the air around the two men.

After what felt like forever, Anders had gathered the wherewithal to speak. His voice was low and quiet, "Y-y'know... It's well past sundown now..."

Fenris shifted from the position he'd finally decided to take; sitting cross-legged on the dirt floor in front of the desk. He put his hands on his knees and offered Anders a quick, _"thtch,"_ before standing. He shifted his weight trying to wake his left leg up before arching his back in a stretch, unintentionally reminding Anders why he'd come in the first place. Anders frowned and looked down at the book in his hands.

Fenris started towards the door. "I," Anders began. Fenris stopped with his hand on the doorknob, waiting for Anders to finish his statement. "I could heal your eye real quick," finished Anders meekly.

"Hmph." Fenris slipped out the clinic door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the record, as far as the rest of this fic is concerned, I substitute a very limited vocabulary in Arcanum with pseudo-Latin. I use the term 'Latin' loosely, emphasis on the pseudo. 
> 
> Ego non oderunt vos: I do not hate you (pseudo-Latin)  
> Vos morionem: You idiot (pseudo-Latin)
> 
> Hope everyone is still enjoying! Thanks for reading. Let me know if you find any issues!


	5. Chapter 5

"Wake-y, wake-y," Hawke said standing over the elf in his bed.

Fenris threw the sheet over his face and grumbled. "Hawke."

"Door was unlocked. We called to you Maker knows how many times. You okay?" He poked at the outline of Fenris' arm under the sheet.

"Just restless." Fenris ran a hand over his face. "Wait... w _e?_ "

"Er... I'll explain once you're, uh, dressed." Hawke chuckled.

Without further adieu, Fenris flung the sheets back and rolled out of bed, still wearing his leather leggings. "Eghk, how do you _sleep_ in those things?"

"I don't," Fenris replied flatly as he tugged down his jerkin, waiting for Hawke to explain himself. His leggings were uncomfortable after sweating in them all night, but he didn't have time to ready himself. Hawke wasn't the most patient man in Kirkwall.

When Hawke was finished, Fenris really didn't have the energy to be angry; irritable and sour, maybe, but not full on angry.

"Woah-ho-oh! Nice shot, Blondie!" Anders punched Varric in the shoulder for his comment. Fenris kept his head down and pretended he didn't hear the dawrf. "Whaaat? That's the _purpliest_ eye I've ever seen, kid!"

Anders leaned down a little and clenched his teeth, "will you bloody _shut it_!" Varric raised his hands in retreat.

When Fenris and Hawke finally finished descending the stairs to the foyer, Anders found he couldn't look up. Though, he still believed it was Fenris' _fault_ , he felt badly about their argument. The elf had come to him seeking help, and instead got another injury.

Fenris sighed the instant he heard Anders make a noise. "Erh, here. I... I brought you this." He coughed. "For the pain... And, eh... your eye." Anders fidgeted with the bottle, instead of extending it to Fenris like he'd meant to. "So sorry, by the way, about that. I uhm... I thought. Well, you see" Anders rubbed the back of his neck self-consciously. "Well, I was thinking about you last night. NO!" Anders waved his hands. "Well, I mean, I thought about our fight. You know, in the clinic. Well... of course you know. You were there, _duh_. Erhm, I felt, ya know." Varric bumped his shoulder into Anders' arm subtly. When Anders looked down at him, Varric made his eyes real big. "Oh, right. Well, h-here. I, uhh... yeah." He finally extended the bottle to Fenris, looking toward the ground once more.

~~|   ~o~    |~~

Fenris felt much better by the time they were just beyond the gates of Kirkwall. Anders' concoction had worked well and worked fast. He barely felt the soreness in his chest from the scabbard sheathing his sword. There was still a little swelling around his eye, but he figured it would subside shortly as well.

On their way up Sundermount, Varric and Hawke explained their worry over Merrill, her obsession with the Eluvian, and their need to speak with the Keeper. Varric made sure everyone knew that Merrill was to know _nothing_ of this trip; strictly recon, strictly for information. The two men merely sought a way to ensure Merrill's safety, ridding her of the cursed Eluvian obsession, and them of their worry. They were sure the Keeper had the key.

The trek took them the entire day, and a few hours into the night. Anders lead the way, navigating the path with a light on the end of his staff. It was late when they arrived, and the Keeper sat them up with quarters, settling them into a spare round shelter.

The next day they took care of their business; speaking with the Keeper and the clan elders. It was nearly midday before the men were satisfied with the information, advice, and history they'd collected.

The journey back down Sundermount was, thus far, just as uneventful as their trek up the day before; interrupted only by a few amateur raiders, which the four of them made a _game_ of slaughtering, and a group of violent slavers accompanied by blood mages. Sometime just shy of dusk, Anders stopped the group. They'd nearly made it halfway, but the skies were darkening and he felt the telltale pull of his magic against nature.

Anders held out his hands, palms up, gazing back and forth through the treetops. "It's definitely comin'. We should find some shelter. Set camp for a while." He closed his eyes and willed light back into the tip of his staff before turning back to the rest of the group.

~~|   ~o~    |~~

By the time they found the small cave Hawke had been searching for, rain was pouring down onto the four of them. "Just in time." Anders stood at the mouth of the cave as the first flash of lightening struck.

"You know," Hawke slung his pack into a small nook of the cave, claiming his spot, "that's really kind of creepy, Anders."

"Eh. I'm used to it. Some of us can, some of us can't." Anders continued to explain the pull of the weather on his magic; being able to sense rain and storms. "Everything in the air changes. All of the energies become muddled, heavier somehow. Anders held out his palm and cast a small fireball. It hovered in place just above his hand, flickering, lending a warm glow to Ander's face. "It dulls my magic. Makes it harder to cast more costly." He flicked his wrist and the flame vanished. "Despite that, It's beautiful, isn't it?" Anders looked back at Hawke and the rest of them with an expectant look on his face. "The rain." Anders turned back to the mouth of the cave and looked upwards.

Hawke reared back and threw an apple, pegging Anders right between the shoulder blades.

" _Ow!_ Makers blighted ass, who threw that!?"

Hawke and Varric burst out. Laughter echoed through the cave, over the crackle of the campfire, the rumble of thunder, and the patter of rain. Even Fenris found himself chuckling for a brief moment.

" _That_ was for your asinine commentary, _AND_ for taking all of the pears out of _my_ pack, replacing them with _your_ crummy apples!"

Anders employed his very best _'it-certainly-wasn't-me'_ demeanor. When that obviously didn't work, he retrieved the apple Hawke had thrown. "And sweet blood of Andraste, were they ever _good_!" He dodged another apple, and chucked the one he'd retrieved towards Hawke. It missed and splattered into a million pieces against the cavern wall.

"If you two are quite finished," Varric interrupted, setting dinner over the fire.

Hawke looked at the splatter, back at Anders, and shook his head, taunting him. Their standoff disbanded and Anders went about laying out everyone's bedroll. Hawkes first, nearest the nook he'd not-so-subtly claimed for himself, then Varrics, then, beside his own, Fenris'.

~~|   ~o~    |~~

Night had long fallen and the men had laid some of their soaked belongings out to dry around the fire as they ate; talking, and laughing, and passing the time. The storm worsened each minute; sharp lightening strikes, clapping and popping; rolling thunder booming across the skies, echoing in the cave.

Fenris was cleaning his sword when he heard a noise that seemed just beyond the cave entrance. He looked out, but even his superior elven eyesight couldn't make out anything through the rain and the trees. He wasn't fully armored, but he couldn't waste time before checking it out. He approached the mouth of the cave and veered right instantly, taking cover against the stone. His unguarded fingers twitched around the hilt of his sword as he heard another rustle in the trees nearby.

Fenris was extremely alert. He was taken by surprise by how close the sound seemed. His hearing was stunted by the rain; ricocheting off of leaves, pelting bark, pouring down on his head. He pushed forward, completely silent under the cover of the storm, weaving in and out of trees until he saw a dim, warm glow.

His skin was aglow; wet, silken, and still _so_ fair. An outstretched throat flexed as he let his head fall straight back, revealing a flash of white teeth as the corners of his mouth drew up in an unrestrained smile.

Honey, ash-blonde hair had given in to the rain; soaked, and looking chestnut brown in the warm light. He reached up, unexpected muscles pleasantly shifting as he ran both hands through his hair, slicking it straight back. His scuffled chin met his chest, dusted with strawberry blonde hair gleaming in the light radiating from his staff. He stood there a long while, looking down, fingers locked, hands resting on the back of his neck as he let the rain flow over him.

Fenris watched so intently he felt as if could almost see each drop. Rain trickled down his broad forehead, eventually dripping off the end of his nose. Droplets lingered in the light hairs covering his chest until they became too heavy and made their way down his stomach muscles in streams, only interrupted by the swell of his abdomen with each steady breath until they were absorbed by the waistband of his lose, tan trousers, soaked and clinging to his long legs.

Fenris realized his jaw was slack when he tasted the bittersweet rain. He stared for a moment longer, watching the mage run his thumbs through the waistband of his trousers, readjusting them from the weight of the rain. Fenris followed the muscles in the man's pale arms as he bent down to retrieve his soaked white tunic off of the ground, slinging it over his shoulder.

Fenris had finally fully come back to himself in time to realize that he had lingered a moment too long. Anders turned back towards the cave, taking one last glance at the treetops, smiling like a fool while his lashes fluttered in an attempt to keep the rain out.

Fenris turned and made his way back to their shelter, all but sprinting through the trees. He whipped around the corner into the cave, breathing for what felt like the first time since he'd spotted the mage. His chest heaved, his stomach fluttered, and a slight ache stirred in his groin. He propped his sword against the cave wall opposite the fire, bent over, and tousled his hair in an attempt to dry it out some.

Fenris cursed himself as he sat by the fire, viciously snapping twigs into minuscule pieces, throwing them into the flames. Varric and Hawke were oblivious to his _intense_ brooding. They had been discussing the information they'd gathered from the Dalish in an attempt to lay out a plan for dealing with Merrill. It took all of Fenris' will to not look at the mage when he sauntered into the cave, clad in a soaked, threadbare white tunic and equally soaked brown trousers.

~~|   ~o~    |~~

Anders snuck out into the forest, willing a light into the end of his staff. He reached a small clearing far enough away from camp that no one would be able to see him. Anders loved the feel of summer rain; trickling and streaming down his skin like gentle, cool caresses. In his youth, he'd never been able to enjoy such things. He was, instead, locked up in a tower, guarded and miserable.

He stripped out of old his shirt, tossing it into the leaves covering the muddy forest bed. _Simple joys_ , Anders thought to himself before rubbing his hand over his face, scraping calloused fingers over his stubble laden jaw line and down his neck. He tightened his grip on the staff and thrust it into the ground, remaining upright in the mud. He winced when leaves rustled and branches snapped under the force of his staff.

He looked around for a moment, making sure everything was still clear before letting his head fall back. His hair had been getting long. It tickled the back of his neck as he looked towards the sky, letting the rain wash away his thoughts. He stood there for a moment, focusing on his breathing and the way the rain cooled his skin. He ran his hands through his hair, wringing out some of the rain, enjoying the way it flowed over his shoulders and down his back. He stood there with his head bowed, taking in every moment for _himself_ , smiling before he made the decision to turn back. He untangled his shirt, struggling to fit it back on before walking back into the cave. He was glad to find the two busy bodies and grumpy elf as he'd hoped; preoccupied. He didn't want anyone poking fun at one of the few things he enjoyed purely for himself.

He sat across the fire from Fenris, who looked for all the world like he'd launch a full assault on the flames if he could. They hadn't spoken more than two words since leaving Kirkwall. Anders wanted to say _something_ , but after his babbling in Fenris' mansion he couldn't bear risking that kind of embarrassment again. He noticed the elf's soaked garb, hair, and dripping sword in the corner. His cheeks flushed briefly, wondering if Fenris had traipsed through the woods and spotted him. He dismissed the thought. No, if he'd been out there, Anders would have notice and Fenris would have said something by now. _Wouldn't he_?  

"You should dry those out, you know." Anders looked up at Fenris with just his eyes.

"Hmm?" Fenris had been deep in his thoughts, caught between _extremely_ intense self loathing and arousal from his wandering thoughts.

"The armor you're still wearing. If you don't dry it out, it'll ruin. Just trying to help." Anders felt the need to qualify his suggestions in the anticipation that Fenris would scold him.

Fenris finally looked up, trying his damnedest to mask his slight panic, worried Anders knew he was in the woods as well. "I suppose they might," he replied finally, shifting to remove the excess pieces. As he lay them out to dry, he felt dread wash over him briefly, as if his thoughts weren't jumbled enough. He just hoped the mage was dense enough to not question _why_ his armor had been soaked.

 _Maker's breath, have his eyes always been that green?_ Anders gathered his thoughts for a moment, picking at his wet undershirt.

"You know, Fenris... I'd like to think"

"Fenris, still want first watch?" Hawke interrupted Anders. Fenris nodded once in reply. "It's all yours, then. I'm sleeping. With any luck, this blighted downpour and lightening storm will subside by morning."

Anders hung his head and stared at the flames as Hawke and Varric climbed into the bedrolls.  

"You should be resting, should you not?"

"Didn't know you cared." Anders smiled at him.

"I," Fenris cleared his throat, "do not. I am simply looking out for the group. You will be of no use unrested."

"Hmm." They sat in silence a while longer. "Night, then," Anders said finally, contemplating finishing the thoughts Hawke had interrupted. He made his way over to the bedroll and stripped off his shirt, setting it by the fire to dry. Fenris watched him, trying to keep the curiosity off of his face as the flames licked and darted, conquering the shadows over Anders' skin.

"Night... Anders." _Venhedis. Anders._ _Quod_ _est_ _iniuriam_ _cum_ _me?_

Anders wasn't sure what to make of it, but he felt a warming in the pit of his stomach as he closed his eyes to sleep.

~~|   ~o~    |~~

Anders rested his head back against the base of a tree as the rain poured down over them both. The forest bed was rough against his back. Gentle, caressing hands moved across his torso, washing away any discomfort. A surprised moan escaped him when his head was nudged to expose his neck, allowing the elf straddling him to nip at the skin just above his collarbone, lecherously lapping up rain drops and sweat. Tongue, teeth, and lips made their way up to his ear, biting, tugging, and licking. Anders' breath quickened, chest heaving, eyes wide, as he felt the elf slither down his body. Soft kisses and caresses trailing down his chest, lower, down his stomach, until a tongue was tracing the skin around his navel, lapping at the rain that had gathered there.

Anders practically whimpered when he felt the full weight of the elf on top of him again. He rolled his hips and flexed his muscles in every way imaginable to feel more of Fenris. Finally, the elf settled over him, sitting snug over his groin, palms placed on either side of Anders' head, resting his weight on extended arms. Anders raised his head slowly towards Fenris, licking his lips, desperate to kiss the soft lips that had been nearly everywhere on his body, _but_ his own. Anders was quivering in anticipation, drawing himself closer until the elf shifted, placing a hand on his chest. A radiant blue glow emanated all around them, reflecting off of each raindrop.

"Fenris?" Anders opened his eyes and took in the elf's expression.

"No, no, Fenris please, no." Anders squirmed, struggling to get Fenris off of him.

Fenris' arm glowed brighter, finger tips turning translucent before the rest of his hand, then his entire arm. He applied more pressure against Anders' chest. Anders struggled harder, distracted by fear and the pain in his chest.

"Fenris," Anders begged, "please don't do this."

More pressure and he felt a sickening sensation deep in his chest. "Fenris!" He struggled against the arm, now wrist deep in his chest cavity, "FENRIS!"

~~|   ~o~    |~~

Anders screamed when he saw Fenris' face hovering over his. Fenris jerked, removing his hand from the mage's chest where he'd been shaking the man awake. Anders was sweating profusely and breathing heavily. He brought shaking hands over his face, taking a moment to compose himself. He sat up. Fenris remained where he was, squatting beside the mage's bedroll.

"You were... saying my name. I demand to know why."

"I was just dreaming, Fenris." Anders' tone was meek, but he didn't much care at the moment.

"Precisely." Fenris looked at him intensely, still demanding an answer.

"You were killing me... again." Anders barely whispered the last word.

"Killing you? _Again?_ " A grim expression settled itself onto Fenris' face.

"Yes. That _is_ what I said." Anders scrubbed his face again.

"Why?"

"Don't know."

"You _must_."

"Must I, Fenris? _Must I_ know why _you're_ trying to kill me in my dreams? Well, I don't. So just _shut it!_ " Fenris' resolve faltered for a moment, revealing hurt, confusion, then frustration.

Fenris stood. "Well, it is nearly your watch now. Get up."

Anders joined Fenris by the fire, retrieving his tunic. He threw it over his head and sighed, remembering the brief hurt in Fenris' expression. "I didn't mean to sound so angry. I was... unsettled. You know the way of it."

"Of what?"

"Dreams, nightmares."

"That is none of your concern."

"No, I suppose, not any more."

"And what is that supposed to mean?"

"You dreamt a lot in your unconsciousness. Nightmares. Thrashing and groaning. It was... worrisome."

"I do not wish to discuss this, _mage_."

"No, of course not. Well, thanks anyway." Anders stood and retrieved his staff to begin his surveillance of the area.

"For what?" Fenris' voice echoed lightly towards the mouth of the cave. Fenris knew he should have remained silent, but he'd been thrown off by everything. He cursed himself once more as he sat, waiting for Anders' response.

Anders stopped and turned his head, looking at Fenris over his shoulder. "For caring enough to interrupt _my_ nightmare."

"I simply woke you for your duty on watch. Have a care how you interpret my actions."

~~|   ~o~    |~~

Fenris woke with the toe of Hawke's heavy boot lodged in the small of his back. He opened his eyes and reached back to swat at Hawke's leg.

"Stop it, Hawke! I'm awake."  Hawke chuckled and proceeded to nudge him a few more times before Fenris growled and flung his light blanket over his head.

He laid there a moment after Hawke had stopped before popping his head back out from under the covers. When he did, glassy russet eyes swirled with golden honey were staring at him from the next bedroll over.

Anders blinked a few times, clearing his vision, staring the whole while into sleepy jade green eyes. Suddenly, the feet of uneven, rocky cave floor separating them seemed to lessen. Anders, still struggling to wake up, smiled and Fenris threw back his blanket as he _scrambled_ to his feet before heading Hawke's direction.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quod est iniuriam cum me: What is wrong with me (pseudo-Latin)


	6. Chapter 6

Anders piddled around his clinic for a while. He'd tried to rest after returning from Sundermount, though, it was futile. The clinic was still a wreck, but he'd at least made a walking path through the debris. After deciding the toppled bookshelf was unsalvageable, he threw the excess wood into a corner for scraps. Finally, he turned his attention to the demolished crates, attemping to catalog the pulverized vials.

At one point, Anders had taken inventory of his clinic. Once a week he'd keep a ledger of potions made, herbs used, salves purchased, and the like, but it did not last long. Justice thought it took too much time away from the _important_ purposes of the clinic. Now he wished he'd had an inventory so he could be prepared.

He did the best he could, mostly from memory of what was in which crate, but partially by observing the remains in the dirt. When he was finished, Anders healed the cuts and scrapes he'd accrued from cleaning the glass haphazardly, _distracted._

~~|   ~o~    |~~

The Hanged Man contained its usual patrons when Anders arrived. It was late, so the place was bustling, as expected. He didn't much care to linger in the main parlor, and made his way up to Varric's suite.

"Heyyyy! Blondie, long time no see," Varric said ironically. He laughed, pulling out an extra chair for Anders.

"Uh, just a drink. I need a break." Anders provided Varric with a weak laugh.

Varric stuck his head out the door and held up two fingers, waiting for Norah to take notice. When she came back with the brews, Varric told her to put Anders on his tab from then on out.

"Awfully kind, Varric. You don't have to do that," Anders said as he raised his glass.

"Nah. You've been lookin' like you could use it of late. What's the trouble, kid?" Varric took a long pull from his mug.

Anders spared a moment to look around the suite. It was big. Bigger than you'd imagine a room at the Hanged man being, filled with everything essentially _Varric_ ; stone, dwarven style furniture, stone bookshelves, idols, low chairs. Anders thought about how comfortable it was, about how many memories they'd shared in there over the years.

After a long while, all Anders offered Varric was an _"Eeehh, yeah,"_ along with a sigh.

Varric looked confused for a moment, staring at Anders. "This got something to do with that elf?"

 _Wow_ , Anders thought, _He's just going to come right out and say it?_

Ander knew he shouldn't have come, but he didn't want to sit in his clinic brooding and feeling sorry for himself either. Varric was always someone he could talk to. He'd shared many of his adventures with Varric over the years, some of which made it into his stories. They were always tales of more grandeur and drama, but Anders still knew they were renditions of his own adventures and it made him smile.

Anders chuckled mirthlessly. It was a helpless sound through and through. "I, uh... I don't know what I'm going to do, Varric. I thought... maybe, with time I might... you know..." Anders took another long pull from his ale. "I thought I'd forget about all of that business after the coast. I thought it was a passing thing, you know, because he saved my life. I don't know." 

"Mmmhph," Varric said into his mug. He knew something had been bothering Anders, and he knew, since the moment he saw Anders rush to Fenris' bedside, that this was coming. Sometimes even _Varric_ surprised himself.

"I'm in trouble, Varric. Big time."

"Well, Blondie, this is"

"I feel like I did when I was young, back in the circle. Getting butterflies, fawning over someone who made eyes at me, swooning and fantasizing. It's... terrible. I feel awful."

"Oh, it's not that bad. You still got me and Hawke." Varric chuckled. "Really, though, It can't be that bad. Love... Love is a beautiful thing."

" _Pfft!_ Love..." Anders sighed. "Varric, you're out of your sodding mind. Fenris, he _hates_ me"

"And you _hated_ him, did you not? All these years you _thought_ you hated him. I always said you two had more in common than a nug and a hare!" Anders laughed halfheartedly, still lost in his own thoughts.

Anders hung his head straight back and looked up at the ceiling, "Why, Maker? Why me? Of _all_ the blighted people."

Varric laughed, "I don't think that'll get ya anywhere, Blondie."

"No, I suppose it won't, will it?" Anders finished off his ale, beckoning for more.

"So," Varric began after a long silence, "what're you gonna do about it?"

"Nothing. Ab-sol-utely nothing. There's nothing I _can_ do." Anders sighed, still thoroughly crestfallen.

"Oh, come _on,_ kid! I know you better than that. You don't give up on anything. In all the time I've followed Hawke, Blondie, _never_ have I known you to give up... never."

Anders looked up, finally. He'd been staring into his mug for more than a handful of minutes. "Varric, this is _Fenris_ we're talking about. If there's one person in Kirkwall fucking all of Thedas that's stronger willed than me, it's him."

"I have faith in you. This isn't over. I think we both know that."

Anders finished his ale and stared at the mug again, playing with the lose threads of his sleeve.

"Varric."

"Hmm?"

"Don't tell anyone what we discussed here. Please. At least, not until it's resolved."

"You got it, kid." Anders stood to leave, nodding at Varric, looking ten times better than when he came into the Hanged Man.

When Anders made it to the door, Hawke walked in. Anders said one more mocking prayer to the Maker; _please, oh please let none of this fall upon Hawke's ears._ He nodded as they crossed paths and made his way back to Darktown.

~~|   ~o~    |~~

Fenris woke up panting, in a tangle of blankets and sweat, with the sheets stuck firm to his stomach, just below his navel. _Venhedis!_ He shuddered, briefly remembering the intense dream he'd just had, before he gathered his sheets and chucked them off the side of the bed.

He stood and pulled on lightweight, black trousers, tugging the drawstrings tight before tying them and making his way to the cellar. He flopped into the chair in front of the embers in his hearth, opening one of the three bottles of Aggregio Pavali he'd retrieved.

He tried to keep himself distracted, musing the improvements he'd been planning on making to the mansion. He thought about what Varric and Aveline had said at the Hanged Man. He was free now and, though he wasn't sure exactly what that meant he should do, he _was_ sure that, whatever it was, it would be wholly _his._ After all, the mansion, besides his armor and sword, had been the only thing he'd claimed since coming to Kirkwall.

He thought for a moment about how he was going to proceed with his plans. He could start cleaning out the spare rooms. He'd been thinking that he could borrow the coin from Hawke to replace the roof and broken windows. He'd saved up a few sovereigns, but the damage was extensive and he knew it wouldn't cut it. He discontinued the thought. If he was going to do this, he wanted it to be on his own terms, of his own means. He'd just let Hawke know that he wanted to come along on any _fruitful endeavors_ in the near future.

The more he drank, the more his thoughts drifted. The more his thoughts drifted, the angrier he became. His thoughts wandered back to the rain and the forest; the mage, pale and soaked, glowing in the low light of his staff. He relived taking in every ripple of muscle he hadn't expected to see. Anders was fit, far more fit than any mage Fenris had ever seen. Then again, he supposed the renegade escapee lifestyle demanded a certain degree of fitness. Not to mention all of the work he did with Hawke's gang. He remembered each raindrop he'd watched glide down the man's skin; flowing through the strawberry blonde hair of his chest; streaking down his smooth shoulders after he rang his hair, flowing together towards the small of his back.

Fenris shook his head, angry at himself. Breaking into the _last_ bottle of Pavali he'd brought to his room did _not_ help, but he couldn't stop himself.  He paced, and paced, and paced before flopping into his bed. Burying his head in the pillow, he realized he longed to smell the comforting lavender than no longer lingered there. He threw it across the room and into the embers in the hearth. Fire blazed for a moment before he threw what little was left of the wine against the opposite wall.

His mind had been consumed with thoughts of that Maker forsaken abomination. He was everything that Fenris hated. The very thing that Fenris had sworn his new life against. He was up and pacing again before he knew it, almost blind with fury. In his idle, irate pacing, he carelessly brought a foot down over some glass from the shattered green bottle. "Venhedis! Fasta vas!" He yelled out as he felt the burning pain in his foot. He stumbled forward, taking one more step before his momentum and fury coaxed his fist up and plowed it straight into the stone wall in front of him. He stood there a moment, partly stunned, trying to calm his blazing brands while his fist was still buried in the crumbling stone.

He relaxed a little as he dropped onto the bench, holding his wrist close to his chest. Maker it hurt. He felt blood trickle down his palm, but continued to stare down at his foot. He tried to flex and unclench his fist, but realized he could not as an involuntary yell left his throat.

 _Oh, Maker. P_ _lacere_ _. Non confringetur... placere._

He chanced a look at his knuckles, bloody and covered in dust from the fractured stones. _Fuck._ His fingers remained immobile, they looked pathetic and out of place as he realized he'd shattered a few bones in his hand.

He wrapped his foot after angrily yanking the piece of bloody green glass out. It was hard with one hand, but the torn bits of cloth eventually stopped the bleeding. What was harder was unfolding his fingers. He tried his best to block out the pain, but he was too distracted, too angry, and too drunk to have much more control than he had already exhibited.

Look where _that_  had gotten him.

He shredded more cloth to bandage his hand. He gently wrapped it around his fairly straightened fingers as best he could, before sitting back in his now pillowless bed, still angry. His thoughts drifted back to the mage. Back to the realization that maybe he had been _wrong_ about the man. He wasn't Danarius. He was _nothing_ like Danarius. In fact, he wasn't like _any_ magister. In all the years Fenris had known Anders, he'd never resorted to blood magic, rather, he'd killed many blood mages; far too many to count.

He was... gentle, warm, and that smart ass mouth was so infuriating.

_Non ipse non est. Hoc ridiculum est!_

He laid back on the mattress, dizzy, drunk, and in pain. His thoughts wandered once more as he watched the stars swirl beyond the crumbling edges of a collapsing roof. All of it spinning.

~~|   ~o~    |~~

When Fenris heard Hawke pounding incessantly on his door, he threw on his leggings and dug out a long sleeved tunic before heading down the stairs. He tucked his bandaged hand down into the sleeve on his way to greet Hawke.

"Coming, Hawke," he yelled. Hawke pounded harder, laughing on the other side.

"Must you?" Fenris sneered as he flung the door open.

"What in the Maker's name are you _wearing_!?!" Hawke jeered, pinching the fabric of Fenris' white tunic. "It's hotter than Andraste's tits out today!"

Fenris thought on his feet, "elves do not react to heat the same way humans do. Besides, it got much hotter in Minrathous. I am simply accustomed to it." Fenris put on his best ' _as-a-matter-of-fact'_ scowl.

Hawke was not wearing his usual armor, either. Instead, he donned lightweight pants and a fancy silken tunic similar to those worn by all nobility in Kirkwall, but more Orlesian. "Ready to go?"

"Give me a moment to ready myself." Fenris disappeared up the stairs as Hawke plopped down in the least gross and dusty chair in his foyer.

"You know," Hawke yelled up to Fenris. He could tell by the tone of Hawke's voice that it was going to be something snide. "You got yourself into quite a mess over this. Varric thinks it'll be good for the two of you. If I didn't _know_ any better, I'd say Anders was a touch excited to have a _little helper_ in the clinic for a few days!"

Fenris rolled his eyes as he came down the stairs, still wearing the ridiculous long sleeved, v-neck tunic. It was supposed to lace from the collar, to halfway down the shirt, but Fenris left the leather ties loose. He had forgotten about the wound on his foot until he stepped on it the wrong way. He winced and Hawke noticed.

 Hawke interrogated him about it.

"It it nothing. A small cut. Taken care of. Shall we?" Fenris held a hand out towards the door.

"What, no armor today? What's the world coming to!?" Hawke grabbed his chest, feigning feeling faint. He waited for Fenris to react, but got nothing. "...At any rate, musn't keep Ser Anders waiting."

Fenris decided, with another eye roll, that Hawke was incapable of being serious.

~~|   ~o~    |~~

"This is not the way to the clinic, Hawke."

"I know, we're getting breakfast," Hawke said as he patted his stomach. Fenris let lose another one of his grunts to let Hawke know that he both understood and disapproved of the detour.

"Yup. Gotta feed the damn thing." Hawke winked.

"Is there something I am missing here?" Fenris was befuddled by the tone of concern in Hawke's jest.

"Oh, you know. He's stubborn. He was giving all of his food to his patients... and _cats_. Yeah, cats. I know." Hawke continued when Fenris stared at him blankly. "I helped him wrap his wounds once, a while back. He was skin and bones. I could see every rib. Been bringing him supplies ever since. Blighted asinine, if you ask me."

"Amplius ne..." Fenris said... out loud... remembering muscular arms and well-built chest. _Wait... Out loud?!_

 _Oh, Maker, out loud? Hawke did't hear? Wait, Hawke does not speak Arcanum, thank the Maker for that thick skull of his._ Fenris heaved a massive sigh and Hawke eyed him awkwardly, but said nothing. They walked into the heart of the bazaar before either of them spoke again. Fenris was still lost in his thoughts.

_Maybe Hawke is capable of being serious. Not that what he explained makes much sense._

"I promised I would take care of him as long as I could keep him. Like my very own _magical puppy_!"

_Maybe not._

Hawke pointed at the pastry stall in the market as Fenris went the opposite direction. Fenris nodded and went about buying various items for his day at the clinic. He subconsciously chose things he noticed Anders grabbed first when they ate together at camp or the Hanged Man. Subconsciously, consciously... His thoughts had been so preoccupied that he couldn't be sure anymore. He collected some dried meats, four pears, some grapes, and stopped by a stall with an array of cloths and fabrics. Fenris bought a bundle he planned on using to rewrap his hand later in the day. The threadbare cloth he'd torn to bandage his hand wasn't holding up as well as he'd hoped.  Fenris regrouped with Hawke by the steps leading further into Lowtown.

"Wait!" Hawke reached out and grabbed Fenris' wrist. He flinched, partlially from the pain and partly due to his _aversion_. "What's this? What happened?"

"It is nothing. Another scrape. Bandaged and taken care of."

"You were _hiding_ it, I'm sure it's more than just a scrape!"

"I have it bandaged well, it will heal. I will be fine," Fenris bit, knowing all too well Hawke would not let up so easily.

"That's your sword hand, too!"

"I am _aware_." Fenris raised his voice, which rarely happened with Hawke.

"How long? How long will it take? How bad is it _really_ , Fenris?"

"I do not know. I am no healer."

Why? Why did he have to say that word? Fenris scolded himself and Hawke raised an eyebrow as if to say, _"well it's a good fucking thing were on our way to Anders' clinic, then,"_ and Fenris almost winced.

"Let me see... Please, Fenris..."

"I said I will be fine!" Fenris was almost yelling, desperate for this _all_ to just go away.

"If you don't, so-help-me-Maker, I will _drag_ you the rest of the way to Darktown right now and hold you down while Anders deals with it!" Hawke finally released Fenris when he attempted pulled away again.

"You're showing me when we get to the clinic."

Fenris grumbled and rushed down the stairs, despite the pain in his foot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Venhedis; fasta vas: Curses in Arcanum.  
> Placere. Non confringetur... placere: Please. Don't be broken... please (pseudo-Latin)  
> Non ipse non est. Hoc ridiculum est: No he is not. This is riduculous (pseudo-Latin)  
> Amplius ne: Not anymore (pseudo-Latin)


	7. Chapter 7

When they arrived at the clinic, Anders had not yet lit the lantern. "Finally. I was starting to think he killed you so he wouldn't have to come back and deal with the mess he made, "Anders said jokingly, earning himself grunt from Fenris, even though he wasn't even in the room.

"We brought breakfast." Hawke held up a basket and gestured towards the bag in Fenris' hand. "A peace offering, if you will. Pastries and fruit."

Hawke sat the basket down and lead Fenris over to the basin, filling it with a bit of water. Anders was still behind the curtain that separated his personal space from that of the rest of the clinic. "I'll just be another minute, guys," he called, trying feverously to dry his hair and pull his boots on.

Hawke unwrapped most of Fenris' hand, receiving a hiss as he tried to pull it away. "Mother of What in the Void did you _do_!"

Hawke got another hiss and a severe _"Shhh!"_ from Fenris in response. He did _not_ want the mage to get wind of his most foolish injury.

Too late.

"What's going on?" Anders was running his hands through his wet hair, trying to untangle it. Fenris stared, just a _little_.

"It seems our trusty elf has been spending too much time around _you_. I believe he's starting to think that _he's_ the healer here." In spite of Fenris trying to pull away, Hawke gripped his wrist again, and held up his hand and bloody bandage.

"Do not speak of me as if I am not right _here_ , Hawke." Fenris' words were growled out through barred teeth in warning as he jerked his hand away once more, wincing.

"Sweet blood of Andraste, Fenris! What happened?"

By now, Fenris' entire hand was purple and green with bruises, partially caked in dried blood from his knuckles.

"I got injured. I wrapped it best I could. What more does it _look_ like?" Fenris veiled his voice with as much disdain as possible, considering the pain. He loathed that the two men were fussing over him. He just wanted more sleep, more wine, and for everything that had happened in the past three weeks to all be a bad dream.

"Well, for starters, at least three of your fingers are not where they should be _Maker!_ Look at the gashes on your knuckles!" Anders made a half-sigh, half- _"oh"_ sound. Anders instinctually gently reached out for his hand. Fenris did not flinch at the touch as he usually did, or when Hawke had grabbed him. It hadn't even registered. Both other men raised their eyebrows, lost in their own perspective thoughts.

"Come. Sit. I need to get a better look." Anders was in full healer mode now; comforting, calculated touches, soothing voice, eyebrows knitted together in concern.

Fenris felt a soft pressure in the small of his back. The sensation seemed burning hot through his shirt, nestled snug against the curve of his spine. He almost melted when he realized it was the mage's touch. He replaced that thought with an intense scold and mental scowl, berating himself once more as he let Anders lead him to an empty cot.

The cots were low, so Anders pulled up one of the mini stools he had laying about the clinic. Anders released a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding when he began examining the elf's broken hand. His touch was gentle, his hands moving meticulously, surveying broken bone and rent skin. Fenris' eyes fluttered shut. "Three broken metacarparal-plalangeal joints... Here, here, and here." Anders glided a finger softly over the first three knuckles on the top of Fenris' hand. "These four fractured distal joints" Anders brushed his thumb over the knuckles in the middle of his fingers. "Minor abrasions on the surrounding skin. Ragged, t" Fenris was brought back by the mage's pause. Anders met his eyes in concern. "You punched stone?"

"I..."

"Apparently _walls_ offend him as much as _mages_." Fenris shot Hawke the most evil look he could muster.

"Oh, hilarious, Hawke." Fenris' teeth were still clenched tight. Hawke never knew when to shut up. If he ever did, he certainly ignored the feeling.

"Hawke, can't you go riffle through my books, or potions, or something..." Anders hinted. He didn't want Hawke making Fenris more uncomfortable than he clearly already was.

"Geesh," Hawke turned and paced over to Anders' decrepit bookshelves to busy himself.

As soon as Hawke turned his back, Fenris retracted his hand and obstinately folded it into his chest. Anders shook his head amiably as he went to refill the water basin. "Come. I need to clean it first."

Anders rang the rag out over the top of Fenris' hand. Fenris stared up at the mage as the warm water flowed over his skin and wounds. His fingers ached from the recent activity, but he wasn't able to focus solely on the pain. He'd rarely allowed himself to be touched and he had to admit that his hand resting in Anders' palm, surrounded by warm water, felt... _good?_

When he was finished, Anders led Fenris back to the cot. "May I?" His healing hands glowed blue as Anders pooled magic in his palms. Fenris nodded, knowing that, with Hawke present, there was no point in protesting further. He took to healing Fenris' broken hand, starting with the tips of his fingers.

Fenris found his eyes closing once more. The touches were soft, comforting, and the magic coursing from the mage was warming. Anders' magic never felt like any other magic Fenris had ever felt. Then again, Fenris had never met another spirit healer. Who's to say that all spirit healers didn't feel the same?

"Fenris..." Anders made the _'ahem'_ coughing sound, "Fenris. You okay? "

Fenris' eyes flew open. "I am fine, mage."

"Let me know if I hurt you, alright?" Anders didn't continue, waiting for Fenris to signify he understood.

Fenris nodded once, looking down at his pathetic, bruised hand resting the mage's slender ones. As Anders readied his magic once more, Fenris lowered his head and kept his eyes shut.

"How'd this happen?"

"It was as you said."

"What provoked it?"

"My anger momentarily bested me, nothing more." Fenris' tone was surprisingly calm as he tried to distract himself from the fact that magic was being used on him.

"Well, what were you angry about?" Anders asked after a long, awkward pause. He was nearly half finished, but healing bone, muscle, _and_ skin took time and patience. He was pleased that some of the bruises and discoloration started surrendering to comely olive skin.

"What do you care, mage?" Fenris snapped, though, he sounded more forlorn than defensive. 

"Just... making conversation," Anders replied, sourly. He was genuinely curious, but he wasn't going to let on. Not when he hadn't had enough time to consider the farfetched business Varric had spouted.

"It is none of your business, anyway, " Fenris continued, despite his better judgment.

Anders raised an eyebrow, and glanced up at Fenris. His jaw was set and his eyes were narrowed, but not angrily. More... sad, Anders noticed. Anders wasn't terrible at reading people, granted, he wasn't nearly as good as Varric or Hawke. Varric was a damn master at it. Anders pushed anyways, "It's a little my business, I'd say. _I'm_ healing you in _my_ clinic.

"Hawke made me. Had he not noticed..." He paused, imagining a scenario where Hawke hadn't imposed himself on the situation. "I would have been here regardless," Fenris finished, sounding slightly defeated.

"Ah." Anders let the silence linger a moment. He was concentrating on Fenris' hand, but he still noticed that, while his head was still bowed, Fenris was staring directly at him now. "Almost done," Anders said nervously in an attempt to focus himself. Fenris sensed the magic die out. Anders pressed around at Fenris' knuckles and down the tops of his fingers, making sure everything felt okay. Anders lifted his eyes to look at Fenris. The elf's brow was still furrowed and his eyes held more woe as he watched the mage's hand work over his. Anders turned Fenris' hand palm-up and slowly ran his fingers, light as feathers, across Fenris' palm and down each one of his digits. He heard Fenris take in a ragged breath before he tore his hand from Anders'. When he looked back up, he noticed that Fenris had goose-bumps up and down his arms.

Fenris threw up his best _mock_ scowl when Anders reached back for his hand. "I do not like being touched, mage." He sounded surprisingly calm, against his efforts to avoid that very tone.

 _A shame_ , Anders thought before he scolded himself to refocus.

"I have to make sure everything is working properly... that you have full use and feeling." _Something like that_... Anders smiled slightly to himself.

"Flex it a bit. It will be sore for some time yet, but it is mended. I will be right back." Fenris stared down at his hand and flexed it, before he traced the lines Anders had drawn over his palm and down his fingers.

"Why?" Hawke once again brought him out of his thoughts.

"Hmm?" Fenris found he was having trouble concentrating.

"Why'd you punch a wall? Did it make fun of your long-sleeved tunic?" Hawke crossed his arms over his chest with a cocky smile.

"My anger bested me. I would appreciate if we did _not_ discuss this further."

Anders returned with a light bandage for Fenris to wear to keep down any swelling that may occur from use so soon after being mended. He stopped when he saw Hawke pointing to Fenris' foot. A bandage there too, slightly bloodied and tucked into the leather strap that ran under the elf's foot.

"Really?" Anders said, both concerned, and annoyed, but extremely curious as well. Fenris shot Hawke an unappreciative glare that would have made a lesser man flinch. "What'd you get yourself into?"

Anders patted the cot, signaling Fenris to lift his leg to it. Anders freed Fenris' foot from the leather straps at the end of his leggings and unwrapped the torn cloth Fenris had used as a bandage.

"Just a cut. Stepped on a piece of glass. It will be fine," Fenris explained nonchalantly, trying to put his leg back to the ground. Nonchalantly like it wasn't his own fault; not for being so angry at himself that he carelessly stepped on the glass from a shattered bottle he had thrown just _minutes_ earlier; not his fault for being so unable to deal with and control his feelings that he caused himself bodily harm... _What a mess._

Anders spent another moment healing him, removing a sliver of glass Fenris had missed. " _Ow_. I don't know how you walked all the way down here..." Anders tossed the shard of glass into the pile of discarded cloth bandages.

"Listen, boys. I'd love to stick around, but I've got business to attend. _Noble_ business," he mocked, bowing with an outstretched hand. "Serah mage. Serah elf. I bid you adieu." He turned with a cocky smile and walked out of the clinic. He _had_ to go see Varric.

~~|   ~o~    |~~

Anders sighed as he finished healing Fenris. "It's getting late, we should light the lantern as soon as possible." There was another moment of awkward silence. Anders cleared his throat, "eh... let's eat?"

Anders and Fenris emptied the baskets of food and began eating. Anders went straight for the pears. Fenris smiled, but he refused to let himself fully realize it. He just picked at his food. He didn't have much of an appetite, plus his stomach was half churning form all of the wine he'd drank the night before.

"Mph. I love pears. You know, they have the _best_ texture. That's one good thing about Kirkwall. Ferelden doesn't really have pears, I mean, not like here anyway..."Anders continued to comp messily on his pear. Fenris stared at him incredulously. 

He lifted an eyebrow as he continued his gaze upon the mage. _Could anyone really love pears that much. He's getting it everywhere... Ugh._ Fenris resisted the urge to reach up and brush the flecks and juice out of the mages loose blonde hair. It wasn't hard to resist, he was more afraid of actually doing it. That's not to say he didn't know he wanted to.

"What? Is it on my face? My hair? Blast! I just washed it. Now it's going to be all sticky here," Anders said, wiping pear residue out of his hair.

Fenris shook his head, more companionably than he'd meant to. He was still so angry at himself. Being stuck with Anders certainly didn't help. Amidst his brooding and self loathing, he'd catch a reminiscent glimpse of Anders smiling in the rain, or of the sensuous Anders from his dream that morning breathing heavily with reddened cheeks and a warm, bare body pressing down onto his own. An involuntary shudder escaped him each time.

~~|   ~o~    |~~

It was a busy morning. Anders lent Fenris his back desk and set him to crushing some herbs to remake the poultices and salves he'd destroyed. Anders would finish putting them together later, he just wanted the elf to do the leg work.

Long after the full morning had surrendered to a fairly quiet afternoon, Anders finished up with a few more patients. Grateful mothers and injured dockhands had finally left the clinic and he enjoyed the break. He turned out the lantern, taking full advantage of the lull while he could. He needed to regain some mana, and the leftover pastries from breakfast were screaming his name.

He went back to tell Fenris that it was time for a break. When he pulled the curtain back he saw Fenris slumped over his old desk, pestle still gripped in his fist, completely asleep lips parted, and drooling. Anders laughed to himself. Not so much _at_ the elf, but at how peaceful he looked... like a kitten unable to stay awake for more than an hour at a time. He reached out and scooted the mortar and herbs away. He wanted to remove the pestle from his grip, but he wasn't thrilled about risking a fist in his chest before lunch. Anders stared for a moment more, deciding what to do. The elf made a soft noise that startled him out of his thoughts. He leaned down closer to his face and said very softly, "Fenris?"

He didn't stir and Anders didn't have the heart to wake him, at least, not anymore. Anders, taking a risk, reached up and brushed silken white hair away from Fenris' eyes. He grabbed the small embroidered pillow from his cot and slipped it in with the Fenris, hoping it would make him more comfortable. He pulled the curtain back around and went out into the main part of the clinic. After eating a bit, he cleaned up and relit the lantern, giving way to another wave of injured.

~~|   ~o~    |~~

Fenris heard some commotion, but he didn't care. He was far too tired and not _nearly_ lucid enough to interpret the noise or the pain in his hunched over back. He inhaled a deep breath into the softness in front of him; lavender and elfroot, the mage's earthy undertones. He scooped the pillow under his face, relieving his chin from resting on the hard, uneven desk. He smiled as he buried his face further into the pillow and drifted the rest of the way back to sleep.

That's how Anders found him an hour later. Grinning like a fool, still dead asleep, taking comfort in soft cloth under his head. Anders tried to wake him. He needed an extra hand in the clinic before the predictable rush of men from the Bone Pit.

"Fenris..." He said softly for the _second_ time.

"Aannn," Fenris' noise was more of a moan than anything.

"Fenris..." Anders said again and waited for the elf to stir.

"Ah-Anders?" Fenris mumbled questioningly, still asleep, nuzzling further into the pillow.

Anders looked down at the elf quizzically.

 _He never uses my name. It's always 'mage' this, 'abomination' that... 'Anders,' really? Well, except for that one time, but..._ He chuckled to himself ironically.

"Yeah, Fenris, it's me. Time to wake up. I could use a hand." He waited again.

Nothing. Still.

He put his hand on Fenris' back and wrapped his fingers slightly over the elf's shoulder. He shook the obviously still sleeping elf very slightly, worried once more about startling him.

Fenris jerked his head up and grabbed the mage's wrist in one lightening quick motion.

"It's- It's okay Fenris, you just... fell asleep."

"Oh... I..." He released Anders' hand and dropped his head into the pillow, inhaling again as he begrudgingly understood _why_ he had been napping so well. He felt a warm tingling sensation below his collarbone as the scent enveloped him, calming his sleep-hazed mind.

 _Is he smelling my pillow? Wha_   _No, that's ridiculous. I'm losing it. Ahhgh, Andraste's ass, I really am starting to lose it._

So muffled by pillow it was near impossible to make out, Anders heard a _"Mmfsrryh.'_ It was loud enough to yank him out of his thoughts again. 

"Pardon?" Anders asked.

He lifted his head from the pillow, staying hunched over it protectively, secretly hoping Anders would not take it out from in front of him just yet. "My apologies, mage. I have not been resting well of late. I did not intend to... fall asleep."

"It's okay. I found you like this quite some time ago. I... didn't want to wake you." Anders averted his eyes in fear of what Fenris might see in them. "You looked like you needed the rest."

"I... suppose... you have my thanks." Fenris knitted his brows, slightly embarassed and thoroughly confused by Anders wondering what game he was getting at.

Anders did not let the stifling awkwardness linger. "I could use a hand now, though. The miners are leaving the Bone Pit soon and I'm expecting a rush of injured shortly, if you wouldn't mind."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope everyone is still enjoying! More chapters coming fairly soon.  
> Feel free to let me know of any problems in the story! =D


	8. Chapter 8

Nighttime storms had brought the first cooler air of the season. Autumn was nearing and Anders had been giddily anticipating the moment he could once again don his beloved coat and feathered pauldrons. He moved sprightly around the clinic, readying everything for the day. Anders had taken special care, whether he'd admit it, or not. He looked very commonplace, but nice nonetheless, especially for someone dwelling in Darktown. He'd even used a small round piece of looking glass to put the half of his hair that would actually _stay_ up, into a leather tie and pulled it tight. He knew he'd have to re-do it a zillion times during the day, but he liked it up that way.

He _just_ wanted to take advantage of the day, of the nice weather, or so he told himself. It wasn't often that he woke in good sorts, ready for any injury or illness the Maker sent his way.

He thought of Fenris as he set out empty flasks and bottles on the old desk, readying a workspace for the elf. The first time a knock came at the door, he was lost in remembering the way Fenris' feathery white hair fell in his face as he dozed on the desk the afternoon before. The second time, he bounded over to the door, dodging stacks of books and a spilled bowl of milk on the floor. He threw back the huge wooden lever when he heard Hawke's voice on the other side, followed by Fenris' chiding tone.

~~|   ~o~    |~~

Hawke lingered in the clinic for the entire morning. He lurked and pretended to be looking through Anders' books, piled in stacks around the floor.  Anders had nowhere else to put them and they were low on his list of priorities. Every now and then, Hawke would pop up and ask Anders something, or see if he could get Anders anything. Needless to say, Anders was annoyed, and Hawke knew it. He kept getting in the mage's way  _surprise, surprise._ Anders would nudge Hawke elsewhere, like a mother shooing her children out to play in the courtyard, only to have him migrate back into Anders' personal space minutes later.

Hawke had finally left by midday. He'd followed Anders, watched him, rummaged through his desk, gotten in his way, and pestered Fenris to oblivion and back, as he _so often_ enjoyed. Anders was direly suspicious as to what Hawke was getting at, but had no other choice than to ignore it. He definitely didn't want to stir anything up with Hawke, of all people.

~~|   ~o~    |~~

  
Hawke slung himself in the doorway, gripping the doorframe with one hand, he leaned over into the open space, "listen. I'm on my way to the Viscount's Keep, so I can't stay, but you've got to hear this. There is _something_ up with those two. I swear it. I just can't put my finger on it."

"No, please, barge right in, Hawke," Varric said playfully, shooing a pair of ambiguously armored men out of his den. "Now," he said, taking a seat, "what's this all about?"

"Anders and Fen. They're acting... I don't know. I can't quite say. It just feels tense. To the point where I felt compelled to remain in the clinic all morning just watching between the two. It was... I don't thin"

" _Really_ , Hawke. You felt it pertinent to stop by and tell me _that_? It's always tense. You can be worried when it's _not_ tense between the two of 'em." He looked at Hawke with his most convincing ' _just-let-it-go'_ face. "Listen, as long as they don't kill each other, were lucky and everything's fine."

"I don't know Varric. It was... bloody awkward. It's something, trust me. Check it out? I gotta know, now."

"You got it, but you're wasting your... _my_ time," Varric jeered.

"You'll see." Hawke shot Varric a classic grin and slipped out of the doorway to his suite.

_Blondie, you're starting to owe me for the burden of your little secret..._

~~|   ~o~    |~~

Fenris found himself crushing more herbs and combining pastes, seriously regretting his lack of concern for sleep the previous night. He had been in no mood to sleep after leaving the clinic the night before. Instead, he'd busied himself with beginning the chore of preparing the mansion for its repairs. There was much to do yet, and the more he involved himself, the more the was lured into it. He'd scarcely admit _excitement,_ per se, but it was thrilling to him nonetheless. Regardless, he'd grown restless with his task in the clinic, and his recently healed hand had been aching from the pestle. Though he was growing weary, he was still rather glad that it kept him from the main part of the clinic. He wanted to finish with this mess and be free _~~of watching Anders each time he passed back and forth in front of the curtains~~_ of having to help in the clinic.  

As the day wore on, the clinic got busier and busier. Anders had coaxed Fenris into helping him for a short time. He briefly taught Fenris how to properly wrap a wound to stop the bleeding, and about applying the right amount of pressure in just the right spots. He pointed out where each kind of potion he needed was and what each was best used for. Fenris spent most of his time practically taking over as his assistant, wrapping small wounds and managing the patients, sending them back to Anders in order of severity.

Anders watched Fenris care for a young girl and her mother, ill from some disgusting disease bread in the grotesque conditions of Darktown. He sat them up with a cot, a blanket, and some clean water, trying to make them comfortable in their wait. Anders was surprised by how gentle and patient the elf was with his clients. He was thankful. He didn't want his patients shying away from the services they needed just because a broody, unfriendly, dangerous-looking elf was lurking about the clinic.

A courier Anders recognized ran urgently into the clinic, frantically making his way to Anders. He handed him a letter and explained that he was needed in the tunnels imperatively.

Anders sent the courier back to the tunnels to let the injured there know that he was on his way. He threw some supplies in a bag and called out to his patients "I have urgent medical business to attend. I can only heal one or two more, quickly. If you are in no imminent danger from your ailments, please leave and return tomorrow."

Fenris was at his side when he stepped off the crate he'd stood on to speak above the crowd. "What is going on?"

"I have an emergency. I must leave to help some comrades. I need you to see these people out. Write Lirene a letter about what happened. She'll understand. She will be by in a short while with my weekly delivery. Leave the note at the door for her, she will know what needs to be done." As Anders drifted away from Fenris towards the door, his voice grew distant. "Write that I'll be in the tunnels and I need... delivery... and... down there... she'll know..."

"But, Anders! Wait! I cannot"

"Fenris, just do it. I have to _GO_! " Anders practically shouted at him over the small crowd of patients as he flew out the door and down the stairs.

Fenris made some _extremely_ displeased noises as he turned back to the patients. "Please. Listen to the Healer. Everyone come back tomorrow and _we_ can assist you then." As the last of the patients left, Fenris turned to the mage's desk. There was parchment there already, but...

Fenris pulled up a crate and sat by the door, waiting for someone to approach. He waited, and waited, and paced around the Anders' clinic for a bit. Eventually, he found himself in back, standing amongst the mage's personal quarters. He looked at the meager possessions; A dilapidated cot, a desk with more ink spills and nicks in the wood that one a many years older than it, and a pillow. A white pillow with a ruffled edge and blue embroidery. Fenris did not remotely recognize the words, he assumed it was written in Anders' mother tongue. He picked up the pillow and stared at it thoughtfully, remembering the day before when Anders must've put it on the desk for him to sleep with. He wanted to let himself smile, but settled for raising his brows before setting it back down and making his way over to the bucket Anders called his tub.

Fenris bent and picked up two glass bottles; one with a blueish hue, and another that was the color of honey and firelight. He opened each one to examine them. The blueish one was nothing familiar. He sat it back where it was with the cork stuck in it. The other bottle, however, was the lavender and elfroot scented oils. The one he first remembered from his dreams. The one he had come to equate with the mage. The one he longed to smell again and again as he went to sleep. The one that made him burn his only pillow to smithereens. He resisted the prevailing urge to shove it in his belt pouch, and returned to sit on the crate by the door.

He sat back and banged his head lightly against the wall, thinking that he should just go. There really was no reason for him to be there if this Lirene was not going to show up. He figured he'd waited long enough. Through the tiny, depressing slits where sunlight had breached the Darktown clinic, Fenris could tell that it was nearing dusk already. He paced around more, circling the stacks of books on the floor.

Fenris crossed his arms and looked over to the scraps of wood in the corner, then back to the stacks of books all around. He dragged two unused crates in good condition over to the middle of the clinic and began breaking them down, tearing the full planks off one by one. He grabbed another and filled it with the best pieces from the pile in the corner before searching for a mallet.

He set out each piece, assembling them on the floor before he began fitting them together. He modeled the one he was making off of one of the shorter, sturdier bookshelves in Anders' clinic. By the time he was satisfied, night had fallen and he'd lit only one large candle by which to see. He kicked the debris out of the way and dragged the bookshelf to the empty space where the one _Anders_ had broken once rested. He sat the candle atop it and started filling it with armfuls of stiff old books and loose, crinkled parchments and scrolls.

He stood back, pleased with his handiwork, wondering if Anders would feel the same. After a short while he returned to sit on the crate by the door, tired and preoccupied. He thought about leaving, and decided he would in just a moment. This Lirene was obviously not going to be coming at this hour if Anders had expected her much earlier in the evening. He closed his eyes, idly hoping he'd meet no thugs on his way back to Hightown.

He was startled out of thoughts by some commotion at the door. The locks slid and the door swung open, admitting Anders back into his clinic. Fenris sprang up from his dark corner and stepped out of the shadows.

"HOLY MAKER, SWEET DEIVNE!" Anders shouted a hand resting over his heart, chest heaving. "Maker's breath, _Fenris_. What, what are you doing here?" Anders said, trying to calm down.

"I... I never left. I was waiting for this... _Lirene._ "

Anders heaved another deep breath before slinging his bag on the table and his staff into the corner. "You could have gone after leaving her the note at the door." Anders plopped down into a chair at his table, obviously exhausted. He murmured something and a few more candles spontaneously came to life. "I didn't mean for you to stay all this time. Didn't I mention that?" Anders ran his fingers through his hair and threw the leather tie across the table with another sigh of exhaustion.

"You did."

"So..." Anders idly brushed some dust and debris from the tunnels off of his clothes, barely able to keep his eyes fully open.

"I intended to stay and tell her myself, but she never arrived."

"I sent for her once I reached the tunnels. Turned out, I need those supplies urgently."

"Hmm." Fenris played with the hem of his tunic. "Was everyone okay?"

Anders laughed, a throaty, guttural sound that made Fenris look up. "Yes, everyone will be fine. Cave in. Not too bad."

"What?" Fenris said, accusatory, obviously referring to the laugh.

"Had I known you'd just stay I would have sent word to you as well... I still don't understand why you wanted to tell her yourself." Anders finished chuckling and locked his hands behind his head.

"I... was... unable to leave her a letter, as you suggested. I tried to tell you, but you were gone before I could even comprehend your entire message." Fenris huffed when he was done. He did not want to admit his shortcomings to the mage.

"Unable?" Anders asked, devastatingly _oblivious_ to Fenris' attempts to avoid the matter.

"Slaves are not permitted to read or write... I..." Fenris half expected Anders to make some snide comment about it.

"I'm so sorry, Fenris. I had no idea." Anders looked at Fenris with his brows knitted above the bridge of his nose. "I'm so stupid sometimes. Maker. I wouldn't have said that had I known. Honest."

"I believe you, mage." Fenris returned to unraveling the hem of his tunic, unable to look up at Anders.

"You... _do?_ " Anders was taken by surprise. He'd expected Fenris to twist his innocent inconsideration. To make it seem like something Anders had said specifically to goad him, as per usual.

There was another awkward silence, besides the creaking from Anders' old wooden chair. He traced the deep grooves of the table, trying to think long and hard before he spoke again.

"I can... teach you. Here. While you're here. I mean, helping me. In the clinic. I can teach you a few things. Words. Letters. If you" Anders put a hand in his hair and scrunched his eyes closed hard.

 _Shut up. You can't even speak right now. Stupid, Anders. Stupid._ He pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. _You're making it worse._

Fenris was silent.

"I'm sorry. I just... I thought, maybe. I don't know..." Anders' shoulders hunched over.

"That would be acceptable... Anders." Fenris said quietly, still staring down at the hem in his hands, hiding the unreasonable blush on his face.

"Uh. Okay. Good, then. I'll.... We can start tomorrow when we have time, here... in the clinic. I... Thanks for not ripping my heart out for offering." It was Anders' turn to hide the pink on his cheeks. He laughed, trying to deflect from his slight embarrassment.

"I would do no such thing, mage."

 _'Mage'. Back to 'mage', again. What happened to 'Anders'? I liked that better..._ He grinned.

"Right, well... It's late. I'm knackered. Tomorrow, then?" Anders rose from his chair, unlacing his light shirt.

Fenris stared for a moment before leaving without a word further.

As soon as the door shut, Anders cocked his head. Something was off. _Something..._ Anders scanned the candle lit clinic looking for _something. There_! Anders rushed over to the door and flung it open. "Fenris!" he yelled, before thinking. Fenris stopped and his shoulders tensed as he tuned around. Anders gestured his hand towards himself, making the _'come here'_ motion, and Fenris started back towards the clinic slowly. When he reached the door, Anders was standing by the bookshelf Fenris had erected in place of the destroyed one, lined against the wall with the others, filled to its capacity with Anders' books.

Fenris just stood in the doorway and looked to the dirt ground after shifting his weight from one foot to the other. "I... uh"

"Made me new shelves?" It wasn't really a question, in fact, it wasn't what Anders had meant to say at all. He was completely taken back by it and, more importantly, what had possessed Fenris to do it.

They stood there for another awkward moment, both of them staring at the contraption. Anders had to give him credit. It looked a lot better off than the rest of the shelves and bookcases in his clinic. "For... your books," Fenris said finally, pointing at it. He waited a moment more, surprised that Anders hadn't spoken up yet. "I grew weary of sitting and waiting. I hope... you do not mind."

"Erm... No. It's, uh, great. I just..." Anders put his hand on top of the shelves to give them a shake, impressed by the sturdiness, "thank you, Fenris."

Fenris bowed his head and hurried his way back out the door and up the stairs leading out of Darktown. His cheeks were still flushed and he felt like a boor, for whatever reason.

Anders beamed. A massive, stupid smile, taking over his entire face. He ran a finger across the top shelf, and was still grinning like a fool when he closed his eyes, tucked into his cot.

~~|   ~o~    |~~

After another restless night of tossing and turning, Fenris arrived at the clinic with Hawke, who was in rare form and about to get punched in the gut. This would be his last day in the clinic, as he was almost finished preparing all of the components for the potions, salves, and tonics he'd destroyed. Hawke once again lingered in the quiet awkwardness between the elf and the mage who _hate_ each other so much. They were not blind to his prying and tried to smother anything that would have fueled whatever ludicrous theories he had, only making it worse and more awkward, of course.

Time passed and Hawke had left, thank the Maker, but the silence was no easier to work with. As supper rounded, Fenris had everything set upon tables and counters in their vials, waiting for Anders' touch and magic to finish the concoctions. He did, and Fenris helped him clear out his last few patients. Luckily, the day had been rather uneventful, especially compared to the one before it, but the relentless string of patients had left Anders, and even Fenris, plenty exhausted for the day.

"So, do you still want my help?" Anders was sitting in his favored chair, picking at the now-cold food in his dinner bowl. He was dying to curtail the maladroit silence as much as his desire to spend time with Fenris.

"I... would like to learn to write, yes." Fenris hadn't eaten much and was feeling anxious to leave, despite their arrangement.

"Okay, then. Shall we?" Anders stood and dragged his chair over to the desk. Fenris followed suit. The mage took out some parchment and ink before letting Fenris settle in front of the desk.

It wasn't excruciating, necessarily. The part where Fenris had to explain to Anders that he could _kind of_ read, thanks to lessons Hawke had been giving him, was the worst part. He had to clarified that Hawke had agreed to teach him to read, but tapered off after only a few lessons due to, Fenris assumed, Hawke's negligence more than anything. He sounded a little bitter, but Hawke was his best friend nonetheless.

Anders' heart broke as he gazed at the expression on Fenris' face while he admitted that Hawke had forgotten about his lessons, abandoned them. He could tell it bothered Fenris more than he'd ever admit. He remained silent, knowing Fenris wouldn't want him to say anything further on the topic.

Anders folded multiple pieces of parchment over and over, creating a little booklet. He and Fenris worked for what seemed like hours on creating an alphabet booklet for Fenris to refer to. It came easily to Anders. Partially because affairs like these always had, he was a natural teacher, and partially because he'd met many adults and children alike in the circle who had yet to learn to read and/or write.

It was well past sundown when Fenris was yawning habitually, causing Anders to do the same.

"Andraste's flaming knickers, its dark. Where'd the time go?" Anders intertwined his fingers and raised his arms high above his head, yawning once more. Fenris looked at him over his shoulder. The corner of his mouth twitched up slightly, betraying the way he was lost in his thoughts, concluding that, in his stretch, Anders looked like a content, lazy cat waking up from an afternoon nap.

"I really should be going." Fenris stood and shoved the little booklet into his belt pouch.

"Yes, well... thanks for sticking it out and, ehh... replacing the potions and whatnot. I, uh. Thank you." Anders scratched his head and stood there awkwardly for a moment.

"It was regrettable."

"Was it now?" Anders sounded suddenly defensive, furrowing his brow slightly. Mostly in confusion, but Fenris didn't need to know that, if, in fact, he meant what he'd said.

"I mean, that they were destroyed. Not that the fault was all _mine_ , but I regret that debacle nonetheless."

Anders heaved a slight sigh. He wasn't going to get into it and, for once, kept his mouth shut. He seemed to be doing a lot of that lately, not that he'd had time to notice, what with being so wrapped up in his own thoughts, especially around Fenris.

"Yes, well..." Anders began, but fell silent before finishing. He continuted about, putting everything back into their places, cleaning the clinic from their day.

Fenris shuffled around, biding his time, absentmindedly putting small things back into their place. Anders heaved a heavy crate full of the fresh poultices onto the table to label them. A short time more passed before Fenris shook his head and bit his tongue before speaking.

"I wish to continue." Fenris shifted his weight from foot to foot, looking around as if there was something to see.

"Hmm? Sorry." Anders shoved the last of the crates of elf root and salves under a cot and sat, "go on."

"I wish to continue. I will provide payment. I... I simply wish to complete the writing lessons."

"Oh, okay!" _Tone it down, Anders. You fool._ He chuckled, "payment isn't really necessary. Perhaps, bring us something to eat during? I never really have much here."

"Very well. What should I bring?"

"Bread, fruit whatever. I'm not picky. The kind of stuff you and Hawke brought before is good."

"And you will not give this to your... patients, as Hawke suggests?"

"No, but if you're going to be so bloody"

"I merely wish to repay you for your service, mage."

Anders sighed. _Damn Hawke._ "We can practice every other night, when Hawke has no need for us."

"Very well. May we begin in two days time?"

Anders nodded to Fenris with a warm smile. Fenris turned on his heels to leave before he opened his own damned mouth again. He already regretted requesting Anders teach him. His stomach fluttered and he bound up the steps two at a time, making his way back to the mansion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Few edits I probably need to make, but it's up. If you feel so inclined, feel free to let me know of any potential errors I've missed. =D Thanks for reading and enjoy!


	9. Chapter 9

"Regardless of whether _he_ is coming, I need the coin." Fenris didn't misstep as he spoke, despite the single split second his heart seemed to jump before resuming its steady rhythm.  

"Hmm. Well, don't say I didn't warn you." Hawke clapped a hand on Fenris' back and snickered.

"I will not." He brushed it off and kept pace with Hawke as they made their way through town.

"That's a rhetorical phrase, Fenris." Hawke laughed and shot him a sidelong glance, shaking his head at Fenris' blank expression.

 _"Ttcht,"_ Fenris rolled his eyes with a simultaneous sigh and descended back into silence.

~~|   ~o~    |~~

It was hours before Fenris was allowed the opportunity he'd been waiting for. The sun was long since its peak and it was beginning to look like another morning of crawling into bed, filthy and exhausted, just before sunrise the subsequent day.

They'd stopped to rest and prepare dinner as the sun sank fully into the horizon, lending an opportunity for the lingering chill, previously fought off by the warmth of the sun, to settle in. As Hawke vanished from sight, Fenris finally had the chance to pull Anders aside, alone. "Mage," Anders turned to acknowledge Fenris' beckoning, "a word?"

Anders was a little surprised he'd spoken since they had spent most of the day in silence, but he sat the pot over the fire and approached the uncommonly fidgety elf. "Uh, sure. _Anything._ What is it?"

"I... wished to ask that you keep what we... discussed, between us. It might be "

"awkward for Hawke to get wind? I understand." Anders reached out and placed his hand on Fenris' shoulder, just inside the spiky points of his armor, "we're good." Fenris didn't move. The corners of Anders' mouth started to raise before Fenris spoke again.

"Just like that?" He looked a little confused, perhaps weary.

Anders' smile flourished, bright and warm, as he squeezed Fenris' shoulder twice before turning to sit at their temporary camp.

"Of course," Anders said as he settled in to stir the pot.

 _Of course? Of course meaning..._ Fenris didn't quite get Anders' attitude, but he found weariness a safe reaction. Perhaps he was considering it too much, though he couldn't be sure how long he merely sat, cleaning his sword as he thought about Anders; wondering why he'd been so pleasant of late, why he'd cared to offer help Fenris learn to write, and eventually, perhaps inevitably, his mind made its way back to Anders' smile in the rain, his lean body and.

Fenris was disrupted from his complacent position, poised silently on the opposite side of the fire from Anders, absently cleaning his sword. He looked up when he heard Hawke rustling his way back towards camp, whacking tall grass from his path with his dagger. His concern with the rogue paled quickly when his eyes met Anders', auburn laced with the reflection of firelight. The mage was smiling at him once more, a massive, jaunty smile that covered his entire face, painted in gold from the sunken sun and flickering flames. Instantly relinquishing control and rational thought, Fenris found himself smiling back, warm, but awkward and a little insecure, of all things. They sat that way, absurdly sharing somewhat shy smiles across dancing flames, until Hawke plopped down with a grunt and a puff of dirt cast into the surrounding air.

For Anders, it felt like an eternity had passed, silently admiring Fenris' finesse as he worked. He couldn't have been sure how long he'd been staring, but finally Fenris had noticed. His lungs felt hollow and he nearly broke out in a cold sweat as time moved forward in slow motion. Surprisingly, Anders found himself thankful that Hawke had disrupted his moment, as he wasn't sure when he'd started staring, waiting for Fenris to react.

Fenris quickly sprang up and sheathed his sword before he trotted off into the tall grass, seeking a moment of privacy. He perked up quickly when he heard approaching footsteps, heavy against the partially flattened grass. Varric, he knew, from the rattle of the clasps on his boots and the stride of his gait. "Hawke already cleared this area, y'know." Personally, he'd been aching to get the elf alone. He wanted to pry, with the roguish charm that only Varric possessed, to see what he could uncover about Anders' _situation_.

"I am aware, dwarf," Fenris said without turning around.

"Kay, then why you out here?" Varric popped some berries into his mouth, increasing the casualness and innocence of prodding a conversation, not that he needed to with Fenris already distracted. Varric always went the extra mile for good measure.

"Refuge from that blighted mage, if you must know. Can a man not seek solitude?"

"It would seem not," Varric said with a chuckle, musing the forced tone of Fenris' voice. "What'd he do this time? Let me guess; spouting about mage rights once more? Templars? He eat all of the cheese again? I do so hate that." Varric laughed again.

"No," Fenris said flatly, refusing to be subjected to this badgering, while simultaneously unable to develop a convincible enough lie as to _why_ he was escaping Anders. He couldn't very well tell Varric that Anders' _smile_ had driven him off, or that he'd been practically fantasizing about watching Anders once; unguarded, and topless, and pale, and well-built, and _utterly_ _beauti_

"Never a man of many words," Varric jeered, and Fenris had scarcely been more grateful that someone had interrupted his thoughts. "Well, at any rate, he's a good kid, mouthy, maybe, but... Listen, whatever made you mad"

"I am not  _hnngk_ ," Fenris sighed and brought a hand to his temples. "May we end this now?"

"Already gone," Varric said, taking the elf's behavior into consideration. Generally they'd argue, he and Anders. Sometimes it would even become physical, but this time he simply left, seeking solitude. Was this a newfound tolerance? Was this an effect of Anders newfangled infatuation? Reciprocation? Doubtful, even to Varric, the resident optimist in the absence of Merrill, but it was... _something._

~~|   ~o~    |~~

Anders geared Fenris' lessons in a much different direction than their first approach. After their first few, he had a better grasp on Fenris' limits; how much he knew, what he grasped easily, and what he still needed to work on most. He'd even taken the evening prior to their third lesson well, _technically_ third lesson. It would only be their second _full_ lesson, but Anders wasn't counting his time with Fenris. No, certainly not a week later, to prepare a new plan for teaching Fenris.

In between brief comments and awkward, heavy silences, the two men spent a short time eating the bread and fruit Fenris had brought. Fenris let his eyes wander, never resting for long in light of his discomfort. He still fancied this a poor decision, but the knowledge that he had no real obligation here burned him all the more. He tried not to think about it.

Anders explained his theory that, by working on both reading and writing simultaneously, Fenris could master both skills quickly. He'd even worked out an _entire spiel_ to give Fenris, explaining the merit and ideology behind his suggestion; reading at the level Fenris was capable of, then copying it down practicing letters, recognition, and learning words.

He was prepared for the elf to reject his offer because, well, it was _Fenris._ When, oddly enough, he didn't, Anders was thankful and sighed in relief. He didn't want to spend most of the night trying to convince him to follow the new plan.

"It's going to work out well. Practically flawless," Anders said proudly, optimistic about his new plan, perhaps a tad excited.

"Whatever you think is best... Anders."

 _Oh, sweet Divine, why does he keep doing that..._ Anders shifted in his chair, feeling a nervousness present in his stomach, a warmth in his abdomen. He spared a moment, scoping Fenris out of his peripherals, trying to notice any peculiarities in his behavior.

"First, though, we need to get you comfortable with the alphabet." Anders opened a drawer and pulled out the bundle of parchment.

"Here, I brought this back," Fenris said, laying the alphabet book Anders had made onto the table.

"Perfect," Anders replied with a warm smile. He reached across Fenris for the inkwell, inadvertently pressing their shoulders together. Once Anders leaned back into his own space, Fenris shifted around in his chair, trying to right whatever had made him suddenly anxious and... warm.

~~|   ~o~    |~~

This night, sundown brought along a chilly breeze with the night air. They'd set camp in a small clearing amongst a thickly forested area. The journey had been tiring, full of small and large battles alike, including the giant, five legged, spider-like Varterral. It was a nasty battle, fought in the confines of a cave, but the four of them scraped by thanks, in large part, to Anders' incessant healing, as well as an absolutely exhausting healing aura near the end.

Though the trees cut back the effects quite a bit, the fire still fluttered and danced in the chilly winds. Anders kept walking circles around their little area, contemplating and pacing. He fidgeted, unbuckling the front of his coat before he shoved his cold hands into his pockets. It was a lot more comfortable to sit without the buckles pulled tight across the front, plus he thought his long coat looked striking when it billowed out behind him in the wind. He paced a few more times before he anxiously walked up behind Fenris.

"Taken?" Anders said as he stepped over the log to sit upon it. He laughed to diffuse his rambling thoughts, not really giving Fenris a chance to respond. Fenris merely scooted over a bit to make more room for Anders, who flung his coat tail back before sitting.

"Thanks. Wasn't looking forward to settling in the mud."

"Hmm," was all Fenris managed in the conversation. As Anders had settled in, the outer side of his leg pressed against Fenris', matching up almost exactly; thigh to thigh, calf to calf, though their knees didn't match up since Anders' legs were so much longer than Fenris', but that didn't matter. What _did_ matter, were the parts pressed together ever so lightly.

Fenris finally exhaled, privately reveling in the warmth of Anders' leg against his. He wasn't sure how long he'd been waiting to breathe. He was even less sure how long Anders had been talking, or what in the Maker's name he was talking _about_. Anders stopped and looked at Fenris expectantly. Fenris did a panicked double take before nodding a noncommittal _"mmhmm,"_ Anders' way.  

"That's a _terrible_ name for a cat, Fenris," Anders said, chuckling, before leaning in closer. "It's okay. I knew you weren't listening... What's the matter?"

"Hmph." Fenris rubbed his hands together between his knees, careful not to move his leg. "I am... preoccupied."

Anders smiled started to speak again when Hawke approached. _Scheiße! J_ _edes Mal..._

"Awe. Made friends, have we?" Hawke antagonized the two men sharing a log by the fire.

"Shut it Hawke. There's nowhere else to sit," Anders defended, instantly inconsolably sour. Fenris raised his brow; he couldn't have said it better himself. Anders scooched away from Fenris once Hawke's attention waned, hoping he hadn't paid ample attention to their proximity before.

 _Hmm. That was... intentional._ Fenris mused this bit, Anders' removal, and became very aware and despairing as the cold crept against his now lonesome leg. _Intentional...  
_

~~|   ~o~    |~~

The interactions between Anders and Fenris remained as such for some time. Generally, there was silence or stifling awkwardness lingering between the two. It was obnoxious and one was as helpless as the other to quell it.

Sometimes it would be them sitting by one another at dinner without conflict. Sometimes one or the other would subconsciously bite back a hurtful remark in a legitimate argument, sparing the other's feelings. Fenris had even been caught off guard a few times, finding himself laughing at Anders' quips, though not without begrudging his mirth post realization. They'd share unsuspecting, sidelong glances, when one thought the other wasn't aware, and, every so often, Anders would step far too close to Fenris, grazing his shoulder then feigning ignorance of the fact.

Fenris had been having more dreams of late as well, and, while he could accept that their dynamic had shifted from hostile to something fairly placid, he was abashed by each one. Often times, it was Anders he dreamt of; pale and flushed, smiling and touching him all over. His dreams rarely, if ever, went further than intimate touches, caressing, and Anders' mouth lavishing his skin. Other times, the lover in his dreams identity could not be clearly discerned, but the man was tall and pale, much like Anders; gentle and careful, lean and sinfully silky, always with honey-brown, russet eyes.

He couldn't understand this urge, as he'd never experienced it before, nor had he even experienced having a lover _to_ dream about. He found it infuriating, especially when it had once happened during his sleep at camp. He dreamt, surrounded by his companions and _Anders,_ of all people, who, coincidentally, had debuted in his dream. He had awakened alone, fortunately, and righted himself and his bedroll before an unsuspecting companion made their way over. Mortified and irritated, he'd spurred dissonance amongst the group for the entire rest of their trip.

If he were being honest, Anders was having his fair share of fantasies as well, though few of his were quite so innocent. Be that as it may, few were mere dreams, as well. Anders preferred conscious fantasies, as he could accept, however hopelessly, his feelings for Fenris. Every so often he'd feel a small amount of guilt rear its ugly head while he was around Fenris. Oh, Maker, the things Anders thought up; they made even him blush. It was often at the _worst_ times that he'd feel embarrassed about his guilty pleasure, catching Fenris doing something offhand that reminded him of his little fantasies, spurring his arousal.

Anders had gone back but once to talk to Varric about his feelings for Fenris. He felt overwhelmed, like it was all getting out of hand. He explained his lack of focus, finally divulged his arrangement to teach Fenris to write and read, and he revealed to Varric all the small things he picked up from Fenris' behavior that made him wonder.

Just as Anders had confided in Varric, so too had Hawke. He'd visited countless times seeking information from him. He knew Anders and Varric were close, and he knew Varric was well aware of what was causing the awkward rifts between the two, but he scarcely imagined what Anders was experiencing, thankfully.

~~|   ~o~    |~~

During their next lesson, Anders planned to plant the seed in Fenris' head; make him realize, if he hadn't already, Anders' desires and, if he was feeling confident, his intentions. Anders _planned_ to, but since the lesson had already began, Anders decided he'd wait until its conclusion. _Yes, that would be best._

Anders prepared the desk for Fenris' writing, still working on being able to write the entire alphabet. As such, he needed his inkwell and, upon reaching for it, he'd clumsily sank his finger into some excess ink. Anders looked down, holding his hand awkwardly suspended, unknowing of what to do with it. He thought for a moment as a smile crept onto his face. Looking into his lap, he reached over to Fenris' thigh. He ran his index finger along the elf's thigh, just above his knee, wiping the excess spilled ink from his hand.

Fenris' entire body stiffened. He looked into his lap and, once the shock had descended, furrowed his brow as he slowly looked to Anders. The mage _smiled_ a wicked, provoking grin. "What? Yours are _black_!" He exclaimed in explanation, gesturing towards his own tan pants much less a defense than flirtation.

Fenris didn't quite grasp how flirting worked yet, but he retaliated in the only way he was capable, now that Anders' hands we back in her own personal space. "Mage, I will pour the entirety of this inkwell over every one of your belongings if another drop of ink finds its way to my person."

Anders tensed for a moment, regretting his rash behavior, a little crushed that the meaning had been either lost on Fenris, or had translated as hostility. That was, until Fenris found his own slight grin, even if it was at Anders' reaction to his threats. Somehow, although he'd claim not to understand, he knew Anders hadn't meant it as instigation or as hostility. "Shall we finish?" He asked once the nervous laughter had died and the mage's face returned to its normal shade of pale, successfully masking his own nerves and surprise.

Fenris traced each letter, taking in their shapes and sounds. It was a lot easier since he knew how to read a little, for what it was worth. Beyond what he'd ever admit, Anders had done well in educating him thus far. He was well prepared and far more patient than Hawke had been while teaching him to read.

Anders riffled through a stack of papers and pulled out another fresh sheet for Fenris to practice on. "So, tonight we're going to write all of the letters a couple of times. You can use the book if you need to for now." He paced behind the desk Fenris was sitting at, performing menial chores around the clinic, straightening his selves and such, in an attempt to clear his damned foggy head.

Fenris continued until he was finished, having little trouble, thanks to the alphabet book Ander's had helped him put together.

Anders hovered over Fenris and placed his palm flat on the desk a short distance from Fenris' left hand, positioning his head just over the elf's shoulder. Anders kept his right arm curled behind his back, his thumb subconsciously worrying the callus on his middle finger where his staff pivoted to allow his fancy spin moves on the battlefield. He leaned further over the elf's shoulder to inspect his work. "Good! Those all look really good."  

Fenris felt the corner of his mouth curve before his head twitched slightly to the left and he replaced it with his customary scowl, trying to cow whatever he'd felt upon Anders' praise. He stared at the paper as if it would jump out and wring his neck. With Anders hovering as such, Fenris thought, for a split second, that if he'd move mere inches backwards, he could rest himself against Anders' surprisingly toned, pale chest. He would have scowled harder, if such a feat were possible.

"Now, try them all by memory," Anders told Fenris, remaining over him at the desk, palm still flat against the worn wood. He playfully turned over the sheet of letters Fenris had sitting in front of him so that he had nothing to rely on. Fenris hadn't even noticed. He could feel every degree of Anders' body heat radiating down onto him.

Fenris readied the quill and began; a, b, c, d... He paused.

"Think of you name. Remember the letters, how they look. F- _E_ -N-R-I-S," he said, with a little too much emphasis on the 'E'. He just wanted to give Fenris a hint, not get his heart ripped out of his chest for mocking him.

Fenris continued; e, f, g, h, i, j... another pause, this time, accompanied by a low growl.

"That's a tricky one. It's the 'K.' It makes the _Kuh_ sound and"

"This is foolish. I cannot..." Fenris flared, frustrated, and hot, and unable to concentrate.

Anders could feel Fenris becoming uneasy, agitated. He uncurled his right arm from behind his back and moved it to wrap around the other side of the frustrated elf, successfully, and unintentionally, caging him at the desk, under Anders. He moved his right hand to cover Fenris', still holding the quill.

Anders' skin was blazing atop his, the mage's long fingers easily enveloping Fenris' own hand. He stared in disbelief, heart rate steadily increasing, as he felt an unfamiliar sensation rip though his arm and curl into his chest. He wasn't sure why he didn't pull away. Then again, at that moment, he wasn't sure how to breathe, or blink, or write the sodding alphabet.

Anders lifted their hands as one to make the first stroke of the 'K'.

"There... like this... remember?" Anders muttered the words very slowly, deep in concentration, soothingly drawing out the 'r's and 'm's as he lifted Fenris' had to form the last two strokes of the 'K' on the parchment.

Hovering over the elf's shoulder, he was far too close to Fenris' sensitive elven ears. Anders' words rang through him, smooth and barely more than a purr, hot breath ghosting over every susceptible inch of his ear, through his hair, and down his neck. It made him ache in a specific way he'd never felt, for something he did not know in itself.

Fenris shuddered as he dropped the quill, shaking his hand from Anders'.

"W-Wha... I..." Fenris stood quickly, panicked, toppling over his chair and nearly knocking Anders back. Fenris looked down at his hand and over each shoulder frantically. "I am..." He strode over, taking larger steps than he'd ever managed, scooped up his sword, and scurried out the door, not even bothering to close it behind himself.

Anders righted his desk and crawled onto his pathetic cot, still fully clothed and distressed as ever. He laid in it with his head against the wall for some time, staring blank at the bare wall. He wasn't sure when he'd started banging his head against the wall directly behind him, but it was just beginning to ache. _Bloody Void, what have I done?_ _How could I be so callous with Fenris?_ _He'll surely never speak to me again. Andraste be damned, Anders... What don't you spoil for yourself?_

He saw a light glint from across the room. He muttered a few words and a small wisp of light flowed out into the clinic, illuminating what had caught his eye. Sitting up, he squinted and made out Fenris' taloned metal gauntlets still sitting upon his table. Next to them sat the satchel he'd brought Anders' food in.

He sat back heavily in his bed, despairing. He hoped against hope that Fenris would come tomorrow to claim his abandoned gear, and that he'd have a chance to explain himself rather, to make something up to explain his actions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Scheiße: Shit/crap (German)  
> jedes Mal: Every time (German) 
> 
> Again, hopefully the translations are correct. 
> 
> Many, many apologies for the unfortunate delay in posting a new chapter! I've been abundantly busy this fall. I hereby optimistically vow all future updates will come in a more timely, efficient manner.  
> Also, I'll add here too, as it has been edited into Chapter 1's notes, "I've kind of come to pair the song Madness, by Muse, with this fic. Just a side note for anyone who might care. Either way, it's an amazing song, so... there." =D
> 
> Beyond that, enjoy and feel free to leave me some feedback!


	10. Chapter 10

He fell into his ramshackle bed, armor and all, overjoyed to see a mostly full, corked bottle of Aggregio Pavali sitting next to him. He propped his head up, dragged the bottle into bed with himself, and took a long pull of the wine. After another few drinks, he mused the bottle's label. Reaching out to trace the letters with one finger, he thought of his lessons with Anders... thought _of_ Anders.

He was still in a haze; be it from adrenaline, or curiosity, or pure, unadulterated _desire_. He couldn't help but give in to his relentless pondering of the mage. He was powerless. Every desire he had for Anders rushed to the forefront of his mind at once; the time he'd laid eyes on Anders in the rain, the way that man's smile had once shone brighter than the firelight it hid behind, the way he relished the mage's scent and how it enveloped him, Anders' slender fingers tracing soft lines down his own, the feel of warm breath slinking down his neck... He drifted further and further into thought, until he'd reached one pivotal memory.

The memories of fear, and dread, and a sheer panic that he'd _never_ felt before in battle, surfaced. It hit him hard and fast, and he felt disembodied as images flashed through his mind. _"You shall not have him!"_ He heard himself scream in between glimpses of a battle that felt so long ago.

By Andraste, what had he just witnessed? He felt half sick as he shuddered back to full consciousness. The empty wine bottle slipped from his hand and rolled from his bed to the floor. He sat up slowly, his mouth agape, still a little disoriented from the weight of his speculations, his emotions, his turmoil.

He'd not, until now, remembered the way he had fought for Anders. He'd not, until now, remembered how the threat on Anders' life had sickened him so. How it had panicked and enraged him. He felt dizzy. His state worsened each second that his mind crept closer to realizing the implications of his actions on that fateful day; the _why_. Fuck the how, and when, and where  _why_ had he felt this way? _Why_ had he done this?  

 _Why_ , he thought over and over, _why, why, why, why NO!_

This had to end. _All of it_. It was _ridiculous_ , and _impossible_ , and _wrong..._ He ached as he fell back into bed, eyes peeled to the ceiling for damn near the remainder of the night.

~~|   ~o~    |~~

The strange man looked into his bloodshot eyes as Fenris tossed the small bag of coins into his hand. "Yes. That one there, with the feathers. It will take but one moment," he said. He could barely look at the mage, desperately trying to subdue the swell of all the messed up feelings and thoughts he'd been running from.  

The man nodded and walked into the clinic, professing to Anders that there was a woman giving birth nearby, and in desperate need of his assistance. Anders sprang into action, gathered a few things hurriedly, and followed the man down the closest corridor of Darktown.

Fenris crept from his hiding spot and rushed into the clinic, frantically searching for his gauntlets. He found them sitting on the desk in Anders' personal quarters, packed neatly into his satchel with the alphabet book. He felt so dour being in the clinic, tricking Anders, but he cared not for tarrying. He gathered his belongings and fled the area, strapping on his gauntlets as he ascended into Hightown.

Whatever rage he could have felt was naught. Instead, his heart and mind resided in a fog of ache, and sorrow, and _confusion_. It was all so absurd. He walked aimlessly a long while before he dragged himself to Hawke's estate. He almost died with the relief that Bodahn was there alone to handle his message, rather than having to deliver it straight to Hawke. "If you please, leave message with Hawke that I cannot accompany him in the near future. I will be indisposed. Emphasize that." With a slight bow, Fenris was gone, swiftly returning to the disconsolate solitude of his mansion.

He climbed the way to his chambers and collapsed back into bed, professing that he'd throw himself into the renovations he'd planned upon waking from his nap. It would clear his head, he thought, he hoped Spending some time apart and alone, working on something that meant a great deal to him.

~~|   ~o~    |~~

As it turns out, Fenris and Hawke had just missed each other on the streets of Kirkwall. Fenris, on his way to home after delivering his message, and Hawke, on his way to Anders' clinic in response to a message.

He was slightly displeased to receive the message from Anders that afternoon. With the words "urgent" scribbled at the top, it had requested that Hawke visit the clinic as soon as possible. He knew Anders wouldn't waste his time, but he'd been so incredibly busy preparing for their next outing that he was annoyed to have to take the time to address the request.

When he arrived, Anders couldn't have looked more dour. He was standing at his desk, staring blankly down at an open book upon it. It seemed like he wasn't even aware that Hawke had stepped through the doors. When he finally did realize, he flipped the book shut and greeted Hawke with the most forced smile the rogue had ever seen.

"Well, what's this all about? What's going on?"

Anders glanced around nervously before he spoke. "I'm- I'm going to be trying something, but I think I'll need your help to get the materials I need. It's uhm... I've gathered some of what's required, but there are a few... outlandish ingredients that I was hoping you'd help me collect."

"I don't see how this is urgent business, but go on." Hawke crossed his arms, missing the way Anders couldn't even muster enough within himself to react to his harsh words.

"Well, that's it..."

"I'm sure," Hawke said sarcastically. "What's it for? What's the purpose of this ritual?"

"Oh, uhm, no ritual. Just a potion. One little highly effective portion." He scratched the back of his neck, wondering why he'd even hoped that Hawke wouldn't pry. "It's for my cause. To help the mages. For freedom. For our rights. It would make a great difference."

"Alright, what's it do? You aren't going to turn all the templars into slimy, croaking toads are you?" Hawke chuckled, thinking it sounded like Anders.

"Well," Anders turned and walked over to grab the book off of his desk, flipping through it as he made his way back to Hawke. "I've been researching some of the methods of the Tevinter magisters... Oh, you should probably have a seat for this, it may take a while..." He pulled out a chair for Hawke, and then sat in one himself.

Hawke nodded. "Just give me the short version. I've got a lot to prepare for tomorrow still, so I can't afford to stay much longer."

"Well, see... It's all, uhm, in Arcanum." He flipped through the book purposefully, as if he really were looking for a particular page. As if it weren't just his personal journal, and that it really did have pages full of answers. "I'd have to take time to translate what I'm telling you bit-by-bit, so it'll still be a while. Just sit."

"Anders, I really can't. I trust you. If you think this will help, I'll get what you need. Just be careful. You know how things have been of late."

"I knew you'd stand behind me in this even if..." Anders slowly trailed off.

"What?"

"Nothing..."

They said their goodbyes and Hawke urged him to get prepared for their next outing instead of reopening the clinic.

~~|   ~o~    |~~

Anders' heart sank through the floor when he peeked out his foremost clinic door. Instead of the telltale presence of brilliant white hair and olive skin making its way down the corridor with his companions, he was met with a mane of burnt red hair and pale, freckled skin.

_Verdammt._

He couldn't ask, but when he looked to Varric with his wide, brown, kicked-puppy eyes, the dwarf only shrugged helplessly, not knowing the details of why Aveline had accompanied Hawke, rather than Fenris.

As the day wore on, Anders' mood, his anguish and distress, intensified tenfold. Hawke's badgering about it certainly didn't help. He was hardly tolerable by the end of their first day and they'd not even reached their destination yet. Varric felt for him, but Hawke, not quite understanding, was patiently waiting for Anders to _accidentally_ electrocute himself so that he could have some peace for the first time that day.

Varric threw Anders a bone when they finally broke for camp, "so, uh, where's the elf?" Anders knew better than to inquire, and Varric knew that he knew, thankfully. "Thought he was 'pose to be joining us for this..." They all looked at Hawke expectantly.

 _"Uhnnn-uhh,"_ Hawke replied, muffled from chomping messily on his supper. "Left word day 'fore yesterday that he'd be busy. Didn't really have time to bug him about it... This all took quite a while to prepare."

Aveline wasn't sure whether to take offense or not, so she ignored the conversing men in favor of checking the maps again.

"Ahh. I see," Varric said, staring at Anders. He'd definitely have to get the scoop later. In the mean time, he'd try to console Anders and quell any suspicions that arose amongst the group. Anders wasn't exactly focusing on discretion in his moping. Hawke was bound to catch on and Varric knew that Anders would regret that if he let anything slip. Hawke wasn't precisely tactile.

~~|   ~o~    |~~

Maybe he'd gone overboard a little too quickly... _Maybe_. Fenris had continued the work he'd started about a week ago and now his chambers lay in ruins. He'd been working fervently and non-stop the entire time. His ramshackle old bed, two chairs, and an old side table were broken down into firewood in the middle of the room. An old cushioned chair and an armoire were salvaged and separated safely into the corner. The ash from his hearth was strewn about the ground haphazardly, pleading for him to clean the floors. He hadn't meant to start there, in the one room that had been in _livable_ condition, until much later in his plans. Unfortunately, now it was where he found himself when he decided to continue his improvements upon the mansion.

He'd finished all the spare-rooms and stacked all the of furniture he deemed unsalvageable into the middle of each room. Now that the place was nearly gutted, he felt himself ready to seek out someone to mend the roof, windows, front door, heavy cellar door, and the broken down or dysfunctional parts of the kitchen. By the same token, now that the place was nearly gutted, he realized just how little he actually _had_. He'd managed to save little more than a weapon and armor stand a piece, a few small side tables, two comfortable chairs, the benches, most of the kitchen furniture, and a bunch of decorative junk he had no care for. One thing he also found himself without, was sufficient coin for his entire project. He'd planned on helping Hawke every chance he could for quite a while longer before beginning his big repairs. Now that that option was _out_ , taken from him, he'd just have to dive right in with what he had and work his way up slowly.

He spent the next few days as such, glowering as he went about the mansion, fixing broken bits of banister and scrubbing years of grime from the stone floors. The labor he'd thrown himself into was not successfully taking his mind off of his troubles, as he'd hoped. At times, it did, in fact, isolate and accentuate them, despite his best efforts to remain focused.

The tug-of-war within himself all those weeks ago, his anger and frustration, should have been enough to quell this entire situation, to prevent it from even _beginning_.  Fenris damned himself; his weaknesses, his desires, his _madness._ Anders was a _mage_ and, beyond that, Fenris already knew there'd be nothing as ridiculous as love, or happiness with another _,_ _or whatever this damnabilis feeling ~~is~~ was,_ for a man such as himself; a slave, an elf, a weapon, an _experiment_. He felt like such a fucking fool. How could he have let this happen?

~~|   ~o~    |~~

His worn days and sleepless nights began to blend together, but he still knew it was the day which Hawke's group was due to return. Since he'd irrationally and impatiently spent time repairing his chambers, he'd been sleeping on the stone floor in a pallet of furs and woolen covers for the past four days, and it had not been kind. It was alright with Fenris, though, the pain in his back. It more closely matched the discontent he held elsewhere, numbing it a little, somehow.

He made his way to the Hanged Man that evening. Slinking in, he booked it back to Varric's suite and slipped through the door without so much as knocking. Maker knows his companions had done that enough times to _him_ in the past.

"Andraste's sanctified ass, elf, you look like you've been to the Void and back," Varric exclaimed upon seeing Fenris. He didn't even glare back at Varric. He merely stared at the ground, waiting for the man to finish his ministrations.

"I came seeking your aid in hiring some laborers to mend my roof. You know a many people, surely you know where I might find such men." His tone was even and empty as he spoke, hoping to get what he needed and to leave before Varric roped him into a conversation about what was going on. Fenris assumed that Varric was sure to know something of it. _Fasta vas. Anders and his ~~enticing~~ annoying big mouth... _

Varric was caught off guard. He hadn't really expected that to be why Fenris was there, especially given his appearance and all that Anders had told him during their excursion. He needed to play this game. If not only for his own brand of satisfaction, then for his good friend's well being... _right?_

"Uhh, sure. I can gather up some workers for you." _Oh, this is too perfect._ "I should have word by tomorrow evening, if you'll be present for wicked grace." Varric kept his tone light, not wanting to cause the elf anymore distress than he'd already, apparently, been feeling. He couldn't help but ooze curiosity.

"Not so, I am afraid. I can come midday, if it will be situated by then." Fenris shifted his weight, looking around uncomfortably. For one, he hated seeking aid, and for another he knew how close Anders and Varric were. He didn't desire himself the topic of any of their future discussions, though he knew it was likely, given his recent absence and unusual visit.

Varric smiled as he settled the rest of the details with Fenris. He knew just who to call upon for the job. He could probably get Fenris a good deal too, but it would cost him more than coin to Varric.

~~|   ~o~    |~~

The usual gathering at the Hanged Man had come and passed, much to Fenris' relief and Anders' dismay. He'd risked hope once more, praying to a Maker he wasn't sure he believed in, just to see the elf in attendance. In Fenris' absence, he continued to mope for the remainder of the night, and Varric couldn't take it anymore. Hawke, too, but he didn't know why Anders was acting like such a damn buzz kill. The dwarf was not about to let that ineloquent brute in on as delicate a situation as this, especially while his plans were still in the beginning stages.

"He's a strange man, kid," Varric began, once everyone else had left the tavern. "Who knows what's going through his head... but there's only one way to find out." Varric's eyes gleamed with the sly look he often wore, no doubt due directly to stealthy, roguish scheming.

After a while of arguing, Varric finally convinced Anders to give Fenris some time to work himself out. Anders was convinced he'd give Fenris one last go before completely giving up in his endeavor. Fortunately, Varric was able to talk him out of storming Fenris' mansion, demanding to talk to him. Instead, he filled Anders in on his insight and opportunity. If there was one thing Varric knew, beyond storytelling and expertly aimed crossbow bolts, it was people. Anders really had little choice _but_ to heed his words.

Hawke, though, was a loose end in their scheme. It was hard telling how he and Fenris would interact in the mean time. Varric knew that Hawke was becoming impatient and annoyed that Fenris had been denying him of late, and Hawke wasn't one to stand by when he had something to say. The two men could think of no subtle way to keep Hawke from saying or doing something, unknowingly, to compromise the situation, though. Despite how Varric abhorred being unable to control every variable in his plans, he and the mage sucked it up, desperate to find Anders the resolution he desired.

~~|   ~o~    |~~

"C'mon, Fenris. We've not seen you practically all week... and, and you weren't at the Hanged Man last night... and..." Hawke stared at Fenris as the elf heaved crates of building materials into the mansion. "I'm just lucky Aveline was able to serve our sowrds-ehh- _woman_ this whole time. This isn't good fo "

"I have been _busy_ , Hawke," Fenris said impatiently, straightening his back and holding his hands out to gesture at the innards of his mansion.

"I can see that, and I'm glad you're doing all of this, but you cannot just _abandon_ your friends. We _needed_ you out there. You've been holing yourself up in here and... dammit Fenris!" Hawke paused to calm his frustration.

"It was not my intention, but..." Fenris didn't continue. He wasn't going to, not to Hawke. The man before him could not understand.

 _...Anders_.

"No, Fenris. Of course not, but it's happened. The entire balance is thrown off. One of us is likely to get killed if we don't have a warrior on hand, and... Makers-fucking-sake, Fenris, one of us nearly _did_." Hawke's voice seemed to rise with each word. "Aveline is skilled, but she's not you. Not nearly as quick as you, and half of her body isn't imbedded with powerful fucking lyrium!" Fenris' brows knitted, feeling guilty and angry. "Now, get your blighted armor on. We're going to the Hanged Man, and you're going to be a part of this bloody group again, whether you like it or _not_!"

Fenris had stopped hauling the crates when Hawke raised his voice. He found it difficult to lie to Hawke, but it wasn't _entirely_ a lie. He just had to spin it right. "I will not be near the mage... I will simply remain here, unless he is not present."

"You're kidding." Hawke said, impatient and cold with him. "You're seriously fucking kidding me. _This_. All of this _shit_ is over some petty disagreement with _Anders_?!" Fenris winced a little at the combination of Hawke's tone and his mentioning of Anders' name. "That's worse. So much worse.  I can't belie"

He tried to remain calm as he interrupted Hawke's lecture. It was difficult to both lie to the man he considered his best of friends, and to hold back the swell of his emotions. "Firstly, you _cannot_ understand, Hawke! Secondly, you have my apology. None of this was my intention, but I understand your frustration and"

"Firstly," Hawke began, childishly mocking Fenris' tone, "I _can_ understand. I understand that you're being petty and selfish, and secondly... apology accepted."

Fenris' expression fell into something far more complex than anyone could pick apart; frustration and anger from Hawke's slightly immature and accusatory words; regret and guilt from his own blatant neglect; sadness and pain from his repressed, confusing, damnable feelings about Anders; want, and longing, and... _care_ for the aforementioned mage.

The room remained deathly silent for a moment. Fenris was lost in his own thoughts, and Hawke in his, still staring at the elf. "It's okay... really." Hawke said finally, quiescent. He didn't want to argue with Fenris, or to make him feel worse than he already, obviously did. He'd come out of concern for the man, and simply wished to have his friend back by his side.

"I just... I need some time..." Fenris sighed, emotionally exhausted.

"What's this all about... really, Fenris? I know there's more here." Hawke's tone was calm now, however unyielding. "I can _help_."

 _"Hawke,"_ Fenris said assertively in warning, his voice laced with all of his discomfort, agitation, and sorrow of late. Part of him wanted to confide in Hawke, to tell him everything. To tell him that he now _remembered_ what had happened that day on the coast, that he's always, on some _completely_ messed up, mad level, cared for Anders, and that he was... _inaudax?_ He settled for shaking his head when what he really wanted to do was scream and tear out his hair.

"Fenris," Hawke shot back in the same tone. "You have got to be the most stubborn, bloody... _Ugh!_ I swear!" Hawke sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "For now," he said after a long pause. "You're explaining this all eventually. Until then, take all the time you need, but so-help-me Fenris, if you wall yourself off completely, I'll come back with a vengeance." He chuckled lightly, still feeling a little helpless and worried for his friend. Hawke couldn't stand not having all the pieces of a puzzle. Maybe that's where so much of his success had come from, quite possibly his most _Campionesque_ feature.

Fenris knew Hawke wasn't lying. He was surprised Hawke had even yielded and agreed to let him have his way, if only for a while. It wasn't often Hawke would perform such an act.

Fenris bowed his head to Hawke, unsure of his own voice. He stood a moment more before returning to his work in the mansion. Hawke joined him in silence, moving materials and crates, clearing space in preparation for the next step in the repairs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Verdammt: Damn it (German)  
> Damnabili: Damnable (pseudo-Latin)  
> Inaudax: Afraid (pseudo-Latin)
> 
> The new and improved tenth chapter! Apologies for having to take it down to edit it. Someone whose opinion means a great deal to me suggested I rework a bit of it. For those of you who read my first go at it; thank you, I apologize, and the storyline did not change. So, if you do not desire to do so, it is not necessary to re-read this. =)
> 
> Thanks!


	11. Chapter 11

"Credit where credit's due," Varric said, almost incredulously.

Anders looked up from his patient with a small smile and nodded over at his table for Varric to wait there. Varric noticed the dark circles lingering under Anders' eyes. He knew the man well enough to be certain that he was losing sleep over all of this; lying wide awake in his bed at night, musing the situation over and _over_.

He was beyond relieved that Varric finally had enough time to stop by. The last few days felt like they'd dragged on and on for Anders. He wasn't exactly the patient sort about matters of this nature. Being the one to wait, and wonder, and _hope_ , instead of taking action and being at the forefront of conflict felt so very foreign to him.

"So..." Anders said as he pulled out a chair and sat in it backwards, arms crossed, resting atop the back of the chair, "how was he?"

"Right to business, then," Varric jeered. His current disposition was more from his lingering disbelief than anything. His expression sobered and became thoroughly reflective as he began to speak again, his voice still full of its usual jocular quality. "I'll be damned, kid... some kinda _heartbroken_. Least, that's how it would seem. All the tells are there, but..." Varric knocked his knuckles twice against the wooden table before pointing at Anders, "that elf's in the most brooding, withdrawn state I've ever seen." He sighed, remembering Fenris' unusual demeanor. "I've got to hand it to you, I was doubtful of your inclination... Thought maybe you'd misread the situation." He chuckled a little and looked at Anders fondly. 

Anders huffed and blew some hair out of his face, feeling relieved, and overwhelmed, and annoyed, and... "Well, that still doesn't _fix_ it." He sighed, feeling tiny sparks of hope spread through his chest. He was silent for a moment, but Varric could tell he wanted to speak. He couldn't help it.

Anders looked up, doe-eyed and weary. "So, you really think..."

Varric laughed at him companionably, of course. He'd never use the word cute, per se, but his good friend was definitely a little heartrendingly endearing in his swooning. "Despite what it may seem, there's obviously more behind his avoidance. Can't be sure what, but I'm guessing he's not going to openly tell me." Varric chuckled again, "at any rate, he wasn't himself by any means. It was... a little baffling. I felt for him. Anyway, he"

Anders listened wide-eyed as Varric spilled the important details he'd gathered from his time helping Fenris repair his ceiling. It had taken nearly a week of constant, intensive labor to repair the gaping holes where the roof had caved, and to reinforce the near-collapsing bits. Varric was sure to accompany his men, who worked each day for as long as the sun would allow, giving himself time to thoroughly monitor and survey Fenris. He told Anders of the elf's unusual sullen, passive disposition, and mentioned how Fenris seemed detached and extremely preoccupied while working. He filled Anders in on the way Fenris looked up expectantly each time Varric had mentioned Anders' name in passing, before descending back into a pensive hurt. Lastly, he spilled the myriad of tiny, subtle details that even Varric might have missed, had he not known _exactly_ what to look for.

Varric never ceased to impress Anders. He had played his game and played it well. Fenris was not one to have the wool pulled over his eyes, but Varric spun his words so absolutely that Fenris had no doubt that the dwarf really was there for no other reason than to play foreman to his workers. Not to pry and work his way around the elf's mind and heart, to win his favor and herd him like wandering cattle into Anders' arms, which he so obviously, wholly, madly desired.

"By Andraste's mercy..." Anders gasped. He was nearly speechless, as it was probably impossible to render the man _entirely_ without words.

They spoke a while longer since it had been so long since they'd indulged in one another. "So, what's next?" Anders asked eventually, sounding extremely hopeful and eager. Varric had never seen his friend act this way in all their time together. It was distracting him from his plans, but he was thoroughly glad for Anders, he just hoped that he could make this all work out as planned. He knew Anders probably wouldn't take it lightly if this all crashed and burned.

"Well, kid... I don't quite know," Varric chortled. "Speculation's all we have at the moment, but at least we know _something_. We just need to guess correctly as to _why_ he's acting this way, withdrawing... Then, uh... then we can work that angle."

Some of the hopefulness in Anders' eyes died out. Was the thought of desiring him so repulsive and disastrous that Fenris would choose to hurt and to deny himself in the name of pride, or stubbornness, or whatever other backwards ass reasons the elf could conjure?

"I'm sure it's not your fault, Blondie," Varric said, practically reading Anders' mind. Anders shook his head in disbelief, still sporting a smile. _It's like he always knows._ "Think about it. The elf's got a lot of baggage... hindrances, obstacles... whatever you want to call them. He's not exactly had a normal or easy life. Have you ever heard him once speak about mates, or lovers, or contentment?" Varric had meant to leave, but they found themselves in an entirely new conversation as nighttime crept in on them.

Finally, exhausted and starving after much more deliberation, Varric and Anders said their goodbyes. Standing at the door, Anders and Varric finalized their thoughts and finally decided on a course of action.

"So you need more time..." Anders put his two fingers against his lips, thinking about what Varric had said.

"Exactly."

"What's your angle?"

"Well, he's got some broken windows..." Varric replied with a laugh. They both quickly pieced together the next step in their scheme, and Varric went home to clear some time in his schedule for the next day.

  ~~|   ~o~    |~~

Anders settled in for another fairly restless night, trying desperately to ward off the heavy discontent he still felt. It felt like it'd been so long since he'd laid eyes on Fenris, since he'd heard the hypnotic timbre of his voice, or watched the impossibly graceful way he seemed to dance in battle. He couldn't remember the last time he went more than a few _days_ without seeing him, let alone two _weeks_.

He longed for all of this to be over, to let Fenris know how he felt, to have that reciprocated, and to _smile_ with him again. Oh, no, he certainly hadn't forgot that smile... He longed to go back to that night and simply _talk_ to Fenris, though he couldn't really envision that scenario playing out much better than the one he found himself in now. He trusted Varric, and knew that if there was anyone who could convince, or manipulate, Fenris to get the truth out, it was that damn, gifted dwarf.

As sleep finally encroached, Anders found himself falling into the familiar despair he'd been nursing for over a week. So far, his plan seemed to be coming together. He and Hawke had only found a small amount of what Anders needed for his _potion_ , but it was coming along. He felt guilty, withholding from Hawke, but he couldn't force himself to care all that much, which only made him feel _more_ guilt. 

At last, he'd dozed off, feeling numb and overwhelmed at the same time.

~~|   ~o~    |~~

He rolled over and pain shot across his back as he looked straight up and strained to discern the time. _Oh, right... The roof was whole now..._ He dragged himself a small way across the floor on forearms and elbows, trying to find an angle where he could see the sun out of one window.

It was practically midday, he assumed, for the fact that it was impossible to see the sun that was directly above the mansion. A pounding came at his door again and Fenris clambered comically out of his mess of covers and off of the floor to answer it.

"Yes?" He said groggily to the dwarf standing in front of him. He mussed his hair, which was crazily sticking out in all different directions. He popped six or seven joints just standing there, holding the door open.

Varric wanted to laugh, but he had to play this right in order to get Fenris to accept his proposal. "I have another business proposition, if you're interested, elf."

"I am not." He said flatly, not caring to consider anything so soon upon waking.

Varric chortled. "Right, well," he continued anyway, "I noticed _you've_ got a few broken windows... and _I've_ got a guy who owes me a favor," He paused, waiting to gauge Fenris' interest before he sweetened the pot. "Can surely get you a great deal on fixing them." he said enticingly, drawing out the _'em.'_

That was just about all Fenris needed. "What is in it for you?" Fenris asked suspiciously. No one gave favors away so freely, not without the expectation of something in return, at least.

"Always a catch, right," Varric said teasingly. "Nothing, honest. This is what friends are for, kid." He winked at the suspicious elf. "I'd surely never need his services, seeing that I live in a _tavern suite_. If I can't make good on the favor myself, might as well put it to _some_ use, right?"

Fenris thought about the proposition a while longer. There really was no one else he knew to find such work. And he _was_ running quite low on coin. Plus, the thought of the chilly autumn nights soon turning into snowy winter nights was enough to make Fenris shiver and cringe on its own. He couldn't take one more winter night spent as he had the last few years.

"I accept," he said after some time, "as long as there truly is no obligation I must meet."

"We have a deal then," Varric smiled and turned to leave. Just before Fenris shut the door completely, the dwarf spun back around and said, "Oh, and..." Varric added a slight pause for effect. He just couldn't help himself,"...Anders sends his regards." He waved and trotted off into the busy Hightown streets.

Fenris' body betrayed the defiance he'd been trying so hard to instill in his mind. He swung the heavy door shut slowly and leaned his back against it. His heart pattered and his palms broke out in a cold sweat as he thought that Anders had been thinking about _him_. He'd given it consideration before, but dared not tarry on the thought.

He flopped into a cushioned chair in his otherwise empty room, and scooted it up close to the hearth. He scrunched down and straightened his legs out until his arms bowed over the arms of the chair were practically the only things keeping him from sliding out and onto the floor.

 _Anders..._ He thought. He was falling back to sleep, splayed awkwardly in his chair. Despite every single one of his best efforts, he'd found himself yearning to see Anders' face, or hear the solace of his voice, or smell the elegant scent that embodied everything about Anders that could never be put into words, the one that had cradled him in sleep all those weeks ago. He felt suddenly warm and less troubled as he drifted into sleep, albeit aching and sore from his intensive labor and the distinct lack of a bed.

~~|   ~o~    |~~

Some time later, he woke again. This time, with burning determination to solve this problem, no matter the cost. He dressed and stormed over to Hawke's estate, stretching and trying to loosen his tense, aching muscles the entire way.

"In here," he said, leading Hawke into one of his own guest rooms. He creaked open the door and went in to sit on the bed. "This one," he said deliberately, bouncing lightly on the softness. He continued to stare at Hawke with a fixed serious expression. The bed was a large feather-bed with an underlying woolen mattress, four elegantly carved posts, and an ornamental canopy with richly-embroidered hangings draped over the top and down each post.

Hawke laughed at Fenris, bouncing on the bed with such a direly earnest look. "You You're _serious_ aren't you?" He stared at Fenris a moment more, smiling and bemused.

"I am." Fenris said flatly. "And why not? You have many, and I am in need of just one." Fenris paused and ran his hands over the crimson covers. "And I like _this_ one... You will be reimbursed. Simply name your price..."

Hawke laughed, half just because, and half at the complete absurdity of the situation. "Well... I suppose I was getting tired of that look anyway. It's yours." He smiled fondly at Fenris, trying his hardest not to jeer at him. That in itself took almost all of Hawke's attention. Fenris' oddities never ceased to amaze him, so abundant and always presenting in the most random, unsuspecting moments.

Fenris nodded in compliance, quite satisfied with himself. He stood and jerked at the cloth woven around the posts, pulling it down and bundling it in his arms.

"You mean to take it _now?_ " Hawke asked, shaking his head again.

"Help me disassemble it?" It wasn't really a question, but it wasn't a statement either. Fenris was taking the bed now one way or another, with or without Hawke's assistance. It had been something more than two weeks that he'd been sleeping on the floor, and he'd have no more of it. The two men skirted the bed, breaking it down into manageable pieces, careful to keep the rivets in place and only detach the joints that were _meant_ for detaching. In all honesty, Hawke had _no_ idea what he was doing. When he bought the estate, he'd hired men to move in, assemble, and set most of the furniture. Not to mention that his mother had been there to take care of most of these kinds of details.

Fenris moved the whole while with a self-satisfied look on his face. This, at least, would bring him some comfort and rest, if not in mind, then at least in body. He was glad, too, that it was familiar and that he did not have to dispel a large amount of coin for it. He remembered staying in this particular bed several times over the years he'd known Hawke, usually upon recovery from an injury or after a too-drunken night at the Hanged Man.

It took the rest of the night for the two men to carry the all of the bits of bedding and reassemble it at Fenris', but neither minded. Hawke nearly dropped his armful of wooden bed posts upon entering Fenris' mansion. _"Haaah! This looks great!"_ he had said. His voice echoed throughout the foyer in a new, entirely unfamiliar way, thanks to the complete emptiness and now-whole ceiling. It almost looked like a completely new place, stark, but clean, and finally ready to become something more than a mere squatter's dwelling. Hawke swelled with pride for Fenris, even more eager to help him with whatever he needed.

~~|   ~o~    |~~

Over the next few days, Varric and his workmen were once again clamoring all throughout his mansion. Fenris found it disconcerting at best, notwithstanding however necessary he knew it to be. The first day, he'd expressed his preference that they begin in his chambers. After that, the restful nights tucked into a luxurious bed with a fire flickering in the hearth, a full roof over his head, and sealed windows to keep the chill out, helped settle some of his discomforts. Each night, he would pull the sheets up close to his face, privately glad that Hawke had insisted that he take them, and muse the renewed state of his mansion. It was hard _not_ to think about it, tucked warmly into his most favorite investment. Still, despite all that he'd been doing, he found himself longing...

"This place is really starting to shape up," Varric said, as the two of them stood idly by in the center of Fenris' foyer.

" _Hmm_. Indeed." Fenris shifted his weight to one side and put his hands on his hips. He looked all around his mansion, surveying it, as Varric conversed with him. He was very pleased with the progress he'd made. Sometimes, he could almost ignore _what_ had caused him to dive into these renovations so aggressively.

"A little bare, maybe, but that'll right itself in time..." Varric was biding his time, waiting for just the right moment to take his leave.

"Yes, well... It will have to. I have no coin to spare for unnecessary belongings at the moment." He chuckled mirthlessly in pretense. He thought of Hawke, which made him laugh a little more earnestly. The man had _so_ many excess possessions that it was comical at times.

They remained in the foyer, talking and admiring the work. Most of it was nothing of importance, small talk and speak of future plans for the mansion. It was almost all Fenris could manage to acknowledge the dwarf every so often. He wasn't much of a conversationalist, and keeping up with Varric was a task all its own. The distractions certainly weren't helping Fenris' end of the conversation, either. 

"Anyway, kid, I gotta be runin'. I'll uhm... These guys should be finishing up with the last windows by tonight, so I'll total your dues and see you tomorrow, yeah?"

"Very well. I will be by during my morning errands."

"No can do. Got a... _thing._ How about evening? Maybe stop in for a drink, some dinner?"

"I will see you tomorrow evening, then. Farewell, dwarf."

Varric turned and paced off, taking notice of the new heavy wooden and steel doors as he crossed the threshold. The elf had taste, he had to admit, if you could ignore the years of living in a dilapidated mansion adorned with a corpse or two. Varric nearly made it to the square before he heard quick footsteps behind him. Fenris, he knew, from the sound of his bare feet pattering against the stone walkway.

"Varric, wait..." Fenris took a few breaths before he spoke again. "I... thank you. For this. For everything. It was kind, and you did not have to."

"Like I said... _Friends._ " Varric smiled wide and warm before he patted Fenris' shoulder and turned to walk off once more. _We'll see if he's still thanking me after tomorrow. Heh._

~~|   ~o~    |~~

Fenris finally sat in the chair Varric had offered him. Varric was visibly relieved. Fenris had been pacing since he'd arrived, talking with Varric, but not committing to staying, as he'd hoped.

Varric held up two fingers to Norah as she popped herself in the doorway to his suite. "Whatever's at the top of the menu tonight, doll," Varric told her, looking questioningly at Fenris. He hesitantly nodded in agreement and Varric didn't waste any time finishing up by requesting some ale and some wine to complete their order.

Once their meals had arrived, Fenris went straight to business, trying to get out of Varric how much he owned him and his men for their services. Varric brushed him off, desperate to keep him there as long as he could. He gave Fenris a rough estimate, but claimed to have to consult his ledger for the official total. "It's scribbled somewhere in there," he said jokingly.

_Where is that damn kid? He was surely suppose to be here by now..._

They ate, and drank, and talked more about the mansion and the work Hawke had been doing. Fenris was surprised, although grateful, that Varric hadn't brought up any of the awkward mess of late, his sudden absence, or whatever mishmash Anders had filled the man's head with.

Fenris had only been picking through his food, but Varric was damn near finished when he heard the telltale creek of the floorboards just outside his door. He smiled and patiently waited for the knock he knew was coming. He waited... and waited. _What the Void is he doing! Just sodding come in, already!_

Finally, a knock came and the door creaked open inch by inch. "Uh, come on in," Varric said casually. Fenris looked up from his food and tuned to the door to see who it was.

"Oh, I... I'm sorry. I didn't didn't know you had company..." Anders face reddened. He felt sweaty and his tongue felt swollen and clumsy as he spoke. He tried to make it convincing, he really did.

Varric looked between the two men expectantly. Maker, how he hated this being beyond his control now.

Fenris sat and stared, shell-shocked. Anders looked from Varric to Fenris and their eyes met.

Anders felt like he was going to burst. Finally. _Finally_ , he had the chance once more to look into those impossibly green depths. He wanted to smile and weep at the same time as all of the emotional exhaustion of the past weeks caught up to him in this one moment. It was nearly all he could do to keep himself upright, unable to focus on much more than the pounding of his heart and the reflection in Fenris' eyes.

"Your coin, dwarf..." Fenris said, standing and sidestepping from behind his chair. His blood felt like it was boiling and his hands were shaking as he untied the small coin pouch from his belt. He knew there'd be enough in there to at least cover Varric's rough estimate of his dues and his dinner. He dropped it onto the table next to his half-eaten dinner and used the last bit of his composure to bow his head at the two men as he made his way out the door.

Once he was beyond sight of Varric's suite, he bounded out of the Hanged Man and hurried through the Hightown streets, desperate to reach his mansion.

"Well..." Anders couldn't think of anything more to say. Anders couldn't think, period. That had gone _much_ worse than planned. He'd spent quite some time, too much bloody time, working out everything that he would say to Fenris when Varric provided this chance Planned, and rehearsed, and hoped... all for nothing.

"Oh, for the love of the Maker, Anders... _Go!_ "

Anders finally snapped out of his trance. "But, Varric..."

"Did you not just see that? _Hrrghk,"_ Varric grunted as he physically turned Anders around and shoved him out the door.

His mind was racing as he weaved through Hightown, making his way after Fenris. He sorted his thoughts and tried to collect himself along the way. If Varric said this was his chance, then this really _was_ his chance. He found repose as Fenris' front door came into view far in front of him. A few seconds later, he saw Fenris slip inside.

_Scheiße. Lauf schneller, Anders!  
_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Scheiße: Shit/crap (German)  
> Lauf schneller: Go/run faster (German)


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Okay. Chapter 12, how about that! A few pre-chapter notes here to supplement the notes at the end, which are pretty much just translations. 
> 
> This is two chapters smashed together because I didn't have it in me to separate them out. So... just pretend it isn't twice as long as all of the other chapters. =)
> 
> Also, I added the translations in-text, which I know is weird, but I wanted to have my cake and eat it too. I didn't want to take out the alternate languages, but I also didn't want my readers to have to go to the end-notes and look up the translations, and potentially see something down there that spoils what happens later in the chapter. 
> 
> Apologies if that does not please you. We'll just have to see how it works out. 
> 
> One last thing: This chapter has some explicit... language in it, so if you're not prepared for that, just uhm... skip this chapter? Hehe.

Fenris slammed the door shut behind him and sighed, despite the way his chest constricted, before flicking the locks into place. He turned slowly and rested his back against the door, staring blankly into the distance. He lingered a moment, palms flat against the sanded grooves of his new wooden and steel door, as he let his eyes roam absently, scanning, but not _looking_ at anything at all. Finally, he shook his head and pushed himself off of the door, sparing one last glance at the entryway before turning the corner and heading to the cellar.

~~|   ~o~    |~~

Anders' fists reached the door just as he heard the last lock click into place. He held his arms above his head and banged lightly on the door with both hands. He waited a moment, hoping breathlessly that the door would swing open to admit him. When nothing happened, not even the slightest creak or sigh, he rested his forehead against a cold steel reinforcement and finally took a moment to breathe.

"Fenris..." Anders said. It was barely more than a whisper, but he knew it was loud enough for Fenris to hear, if he was just on the other side of the door. Anders presumed that he was, since he hadn't heard anything after the locks slid into their places, securing Fenris just beyond his reach.

Anders backed away, frustrated and pensive. He grappled at the tufts of hair falling loose of their tie and, suddenly, a thought occurred to him. It wasn't the most virtuous course of action, but it wasn't completely deplorable either, _right?_ He looked down to his waist, focusing on the belt strapped and looped around his hips.

_Knicker weasels, I've got it!_

His hands went to work, rummaging through one pouch, unadroitly delving into the other. He brought himself back to the door, wishing he were able to cast a small light to help him see, though, he figured it wasn't worth the risk of casting needlessly in Hightown. He bent to one knee, evening himself out with the lock. He hadn't done this before, but his... _adventures_ had made him an expert at improvisation.

Anders fumbled and fussed before gracelessly cramming a piece of metal into the lock's face. He sucked in the corner of his lower lip as he jiggled the metal, to no avail. Frustrated, Anders sighed and ran a hand roughly through his hair in an attempt to focus himself. His knees were beginning to ache, but he shoved the piece into the lock once more, desperately trying to remember each step Varric had taught him.

Finally, after quite a time of mumbling and cursing to himself, he heard a _'click-chk'_ and he jiggled the doorknob until the door creaked open just an inch. _Fucking rogues make it look so easy_ , he thought. Despite everything else, he had to admit that he'd been slightly worried Fenris would be waiting on the other side with his brands already activated.

He peered inside and was taken back. The mansion looked nothing like when he last saw it many weeks ago. The roof had been mended, just as Varric had said, and parts of it replaced with glass, allowing the moonlight to cast its blue radiance over everything. It no longer smelled like a rotting pit, equip with its own moldy fungus breeding ground, devoid of all propriety. Now, it all looked... tidy, welcoming, though it would appear to anyone else that there wasn't anyone living there. He thought to himself for a moment more, glad that Fenris had been putting stock into the mansion, making it his own.

He took a deep breath and edged his way in before moving the door back to its frame with an intentional loud thud. Fenris appeared on the second floor landing the moment the door settled back into place. He knitted his brows, looking down at Anders.

"How... did you get in here?" He silently praised the Maker for the strength he'd mustered to keep his voice even, and for the strength he'd used to employ this facade in a split-second.

"Haven't been so close to Varric without learning a thing or two," Anders replied, offering Fenris a bright, crooked smile, trying desperately to hide his insecurities.

"Well, congratulations. Now, if you'll be on your way..." Fenris tipped back the bottle of wine he'd been gripping for dear life.

"I'm not going anywhere, Fenris." Anders approached the bottom of the stairs and placed a boot heavily on the first step, staring up at Fenris for any sign to gauge what he was feeling or more accurately, trying to gauge how much trouble he'd gotten himself into for this ill-planned intrusion.

"I beg to differ." Fenris tipped the bottle back once more before taking his eyes off of Anders to look at it. He crammed the cork back in aggressively and placed it on the floor. Determined to throw Anders out of his mansion, he moved forward to grip the banister.

 _Pl_ _acere. Placere_ _justo relinquunt. Non possum ego... (Please. Please just leave. I cannot...)_

Anders moved up, planting each step heavily, reminding himself he was _actually_ doing this. He wanted to wring his hands or fuss with his hair nervously, but Fenris, as well as this entire situation, was unpredictable at best. He didn't want to risk shattering this very unstable moment before he had the chance to at least talk to him. "Wait. Just... just answer me one question and I'll go. If that's what you _really_ want." A few more steps.

"It is." Fenris' eyes shifted to the ground. Though his face remained stoic and solemn, he felt his resolve falter for a slight moment.

"Fine," Anders said, resting his hand on the stone post at the top of the stairs. He took a moment to gather his thoughts Oh, sweet Maker, he had nothing. _Nothing_. Completely blank. He looked to the ground, his mind running wild. What was he supposed to say, now? _'Hey you, why'd you run out on our lesson that night?' 'Why have you been avoiding me like this?' 'Oh, by the way, you're all I ever think about anymore. Nice chat. Please don't crush my ribcage when you throw me over the banister.'_

"Pose your query, mage." Fenris' tone was laced with a little too much impatience, presenting itself more as _desperation_ than anything.

"I... what's wrong? What _happened?"_

"That is, in fact, two questions..." Fenris was stalling. He _really_ needed to get Anders to leave. He didn't have enough left in himself to keep this farce up for much longer, and he was entirely unsure what he'd do once his resolve finally crumbled away.  

Anders stared, waiting.

"Okay, then. Nothing. Simply _nothing_ is wrong. Now, if you would excu"

"Dammit, Fenris." Anders took a few steps forward. Fenris let out a low growl as the mage moved closer. "It was going so well. So easy. You can't just... just"

Fenris closed his eyes tight, warding off the feeling of the wine in a pathetic attempt to ignore the way the moonlight danced over Anders' face. The shadow-play casting harsh and devastatingly appealing angles over the other man, drawing out his pale flesh and handsome features more dramatically. He couldn't turn back now. He'd made his decision. He hadn't spent the past three weeks in relative solitude for nothing.

Fenris took three massive steps towards Anders, pinning him in place with a forced, last-ditch threatening glare. "You will go, and you will go _now_. I canno"

"I just need to know... _Please_." Anders looked down further, his uneven brows furrowed in concern and grief. His jaw was clenched tight, though his voice quivered the slightest bit upon his stressed _'please.'_

Fenris couldn't take the look on Anders' face; the hurt, or the way lips twitched ever so slightly, the way he swallowed hard, or the way his eyes were so sternly averted. He stood there for a moment, trying to think of something, of _anything_ , that would end this nightmare and get Anders out of his mansion, but it was too late. His resolve had shattered and his wounds opened.

Anders brought his eyes back up to Fenris, who was now lost, gazing off in the distance beyond Anders' shoulder. He waited for a moment, staring at the elf until it occurred to him that Fenris was _thinking_. _That had to be a  good sign, right?_ Of course, it was already a good enough sign that he wasn't out on his ass in front of Fenris' doorstep with a bloody nose. Fortunately, over the years Anders had learned the hard way to take what he could get.

"Please just _go._ " Fenris said. His voice was quiet and hollow, completely unlike its natural tone, and his shoulders had dropped, releasing the intimidating tension he'd held there moments before. His eyes met Anders', auburn and glazed with the soft blue of the moon.

Anders took a few steps forward, feeling a renewed surge of confidence. He could admit to himself that he'd come into this shamefully unprepared, but Andraste-be-damned, he wasn't going to squander the moment he'd so foolhardily seized, regardless. He should have been a master of half-cocked plans, by now.

He kept moving forward, the hint of insecurity still evident, though the layer of sadness had vanished completely from his expression. Fenris took two steps back, nearly stumbling over the bottle of wine he'd left aground.  Anders' legs were much longer than his. In the two steps he'd taken back, Anders' two steps had brought them even closer than before.

Fenris panicked and clenched his fists in frustration. " _Please_ go _._ I do not know what you wish of me."

"No," Anders said calmly, stepping forward twice more, "I think you do." In turn, Fenris retreated twice, the stone wall at his back severing the last step. He huffed in his discomfort, shaky and ragged and sounding more like _defeat_ than annoyance. He wasn't sure, with Anders' persistence, how much longer he could keep up his last shred of this ridiculous pretense.

Anders brought a hand up and ran the back of two fingers down the elf's cheek. Fenris balked and tilted his head away from the touch, but not before Anders had already finished his gesture, and was resting his knuckles against the elf's jaw. He tucked his fingers under Fenris' chin and lifted those breathtaking viridian eyes off of the floor to meet his own.

Half a heartbeat later, he bowed his head, pressing his lips tenderly against Fenris'; warm, and silky, and better than Anders had ever imagined and he _had_ imagined. Fenris felt a sharp heat creep down his spine and spread across his body, equal parts soothing and disconcerting. Anders felt him shiver as he kissed Fenris' luscious lips again, applying a little more pressure before he pulled away gradually.

He slowly opened his eyes, fingers still resting under Fenris' chin, and searched the elf's flushed face for a sign, something, anything. Anders thought he looked tumultuous; caught between desire and hurt, confusion and _need_. He knitted his brow, though the soft look of affection painted across his features never faded, concerned that he'd made the wrong move, pushed Fenris too far in this. He didn't have much time for his thoughts to wander to worse places before a hand was wrapped around the back of his neck, pulling him down into another kiss. Fenris met him half way, thrusting himself onto the balls of his feet, joining his mouth with Anders' once more. Anders let out a soft, needy noise and snaked an arm around the smaller man's waist, pulling him closer, pressing their bodies together.

Fenris was seeing stars behind his closed eyelids as he pressed against Anders, letting everything else go. He couldn't think, he didn't _want_ to think, he just wanted to warmth of Anders' lips, the pull of his arms, and the softness of his hair gripped tight in Fenris' own hand. Somewhere beyond conscious thought, he was surprised by how easy it was to just give in, how good it felt. Oh, how he'd needed this.

He found himself pressed harder against the cool stone wall, a contrast to his own now blazing skin, as Anders ran a hand up his side and back down over his hip, deepening the kiss. Suddenly, he felt a new texture against his lips, sliding across them, warm, and slick, and insistent. His lips parted and Anders' tongue flicked out and brushed lightly against his own. Anders forced a light moan between their joined mouths, causing Fenris to shudder once more.

Fenris returned his own needy whine when Anders pulled away, panting, with his bangs obscuring his face. Before Fenris had time to open his eyes, he felt those warm, wet lips against his neck. He gasped in surprise, gripping Anders' hair tighter when he felt the soft scrape of teeth, slowly traced by a tongue. "Ego voluisse hoc," (I have wanted this) Fenris whispered before he groaned and stretched his head back further, encouraging Anders' roaming, kiss-swollen lips. "pro tam diu." (for so long.) Anders hummed in approval against Fernis' neck, sending a whole new shock through his body.

He felt like he was about to burst into thousands of pieces. His body, hot and tingling, thrumming with surges of sensation and trembles he'd never known. The intensity was ten times stronger than anything he'd ever felt from his brands, but when he opened one eye just to be sure, he found that they were indeed, inactive.

Anders smiled into the crook of the elf's neck as he felt eager hands roaming over his back and down his waist. He slid his tongue over the shell of Fenris' ear and received a jumble of unintelligible syllables as Fenris struggled to part his coat and run his hands up under Anders' shirt.

He pulled Fenris away from the wall, claiming his mouth once more, exploring every inch with his tongue. They groped, and pressed, and kneaded as Anders lead them into Fenris' chambers. He desperately reached for the clasps to remove Fenris' breastplate, shimmying out of his coat and feathered pauldrons at the same time. When they fell to the floor, Anders struggled out of his own shirt, carelessly overstressing the threadbare seams.

Fenris stared in a moment of pure aggrandized glory, cheeks flushed, completely devoid of conscious, controllable thought. His breath hitched as he ran his hands gently down Anders' chest, raking blunt nails over fine, golden hair, tracing the lines of his abdominal muscles down to his navel. Anders watched him bite his lip as he flattened his hand against Anders' abdomen, reveling in the pure, raw lustfulness he felt towards the fine line of flaxen hair that ran below Anders' navel and disappeared into the waistline of his trousers. His pulse raced and his chest constricted. If he wasn't breathing hard enough before, he certainly was now.

Preoccupied by his enticing fascination, Fenris didn't even notice that Anders had unlaced his jerkin for him and was waiting for Fenris to remove it the rest of the way. He did and Anders' began devouring every inch he could; sliding warm hands over each line of taut muscle and olive skin, tracing his tongue over delicate collarbones and pulsing lyrium.

He snaked a long arm down Fenris' chest, stretched his hand, and palmed the swelling in Fenris' tight leather leggings. He was suddenly brought back to awareness when he felt Fenris' hips jerk back sharply, separating the intense heat of their bodies. Anders reached out to grab him, but fell short. He tucked some loose hair behind his ear and stepped forward, gently bringing his body back against Fenris', bowing slightly to rest their foreheads together.

Anders was still panting when he spoke. "You okay?" He settled his hand in the small of Fenris' back, fingertips tucked ever so slightly into the waistband of the elf's leggings. He could feel Fenris' rapid heartbeat there, pulsing through the brands that ran across his back.

"I a-am." Fenris paused to calm his breathing and thundering heartbeat. "I... did not expect that." Anders chuckled and embraced Fenris, kissing him once more. It wasn't as calm and new as before. Now, it was needy, and raw, and a little sloppy, though Anders didn't mind Fenris' inexperience. He found it all the more endearing.

Encouraged, Fenris pushed forward, trying to reclaim their momentum from before, raking his fingertips across Anders' back. He moved higher, arching his feet so that he could bite at the taller man's neck and shoulders; sucking, and nipping, and leaving marks, taking in every taste and texture of his fair skin.

Anders moaned and ground his hips against Fenris', sending wicked thrills through their bodies, causing both men to lurch into each other with renewed vigor. He looked back as far as he could when Fenris pulled his hair in an attempt to reveal more of his deliciously long neck to devour, and mark, and taste.

Finally, Fenris brought his feet back flush with the floor and resumed their rapt kisses. Anders wrapped a hand in Fenris' hair and pulled them out of the intense moment. He was breathing harder now and it interrupted his speech, but he was too far gone to care, "a-are you" _pant, pant_ "sure?"

At that moment, the separation of their lips felt like the greatest loss he'd ever experienced. All he managed was a growl. Not an aggressive growl, something more carnal and _much_ more salacious. Anders' felt his knees go weak when the rumble of Fenris' growl reverberated through his chest. His already impossibly hard member ached and strained his trousers further. Anders would have burned them off if he had to, just to get to Fenris.

In reply, he found the laces of Fenris' leggings and worked them deftly while leaning down nibble the tip of the elf's ear. Fenris shuddered and stroked at the line of hair below Anders' navel, slowly nudging down the waistband of the mage's loosely-laced trousers inch by inch. Anders shook his hips, causing his low trousers to drop, before he ground himself into Fenris again. He shoved a thigh between the elf's legs, pushing him backwards towards the bed. Grabbing two handfuls of Fenris' bottom, he lifted, toppling the smaller man back, onto the mattress. 

Fenris smiled and chuckled when his back hit the bed and, oh, dear Maker, Anders worried his heart had stopped for a few too many beats. He suddenly felt a hundred degrees warmer and, for a brief moment, he felt like he couldn't breathe. He'd _never_ seen Fenris smile like that and Anders thought it was the most radiant thing he'd ever laid eyes on; all brilliant white teeth and creased laugh lines, not to mention the way his laughter bellowed, warm and fond He never wanted this moment to end.

Inevitably, Anders was brought back from Fenris' captivating joy when impatient hands started roaming and grabbing. He hooked his fingertips in Fenris' unlaced leggings and gave him a wicked grin before he tugged hard, inspiring Fenris to lift his hips as his pants were pulled completely off. Anders remained there a moment, taking in the whole of Fenris' exposed body, pleasantly surprised that the lyrium brands were, indeed, _everywhere._ Maker, he was gorgeous; the very definition of sinuousness, of power, and of _beauty_.

Anders kicked off his boots and stripped out of his smallclothes before climbing onto the bed, kneeling over Fenris, who inched his way back until he was laying fully across the mattress. Anders licked his way up Fenris' body, starting at the deep 'V' between his hips. He ran his tongue in the gentle curves of the elf's ravishing abominable muscles, tracing over pulsing lyrium markings, working his way up to graze teeth lightly over rigid nipples. He earned an intense shivers and moans from Fenris here and there, causing him to dig his fingertips into Anders' back.

Anders ground himself into Fenris once more, both men moaning and gasping at the friction between their throbbing, leaking lengths. Fenris shut his eyes hard, trying to avoid coming completely undone.

"Mmm, you liked that," Anders said as he thrust forward again, bringing their erections back together in a hot, aching mess. Fenris shook as he buried his face in Anders' neck and bit, hard, eliciting an, _"Ah Oh sweet fff,"_ from Anders. He retaliated with another thrust, driving Fenris completely mad when he pushed himself back and onto his knees. Fenris whimpered and grappled towards Anders desperately, wanton and aching for his touch.

Anders slowly worked his way back down Fenris' body, biting and marking until he found himself between his legs, petting and stroking the insides of the elf's thighs. "Oh, Maker... You're a sight, Fenris," Anders said breathlessly as he wrapped slender, skilled fingers around Fenris' cock. For a moment, Anders thought Fenris might die right then. He hadn't even done anything yet and Fenris was squirming and gasping, practically at the edge already.

So, he tried to take it slow. First, circling his tongue over Fenris' tip, lapping at the flood of pre-come that had gathered there. Then, tauntingly, he laved at the base and ran his tongue up the entire length, following the solid, straight line of lyrium that ran along the underside of his cock. Fenris moaned and fisted Anders hair, completely lost in the intensity of the new sensation.

Anders pulled his tongue away, and Fenris looked down at him just in time to see Anders open wide and take him in all at once. His heartbeat increased tenfold and his eyes rolled into the back of his head as it dropped back to the bed, completely lost to everything but the silky, hot, wet perfection that was Anders' mouth. Anders lifted off and brought his mouth all the way down Fenris' cock again, struggling to open his throat to fit the entire, impressive length. He didn't stop until his nose was against the smooth skin of the elf's pelvis. Fenris let out a fervid moan and gripped the sheets tight in his hands, twisting and clenching, using every last thread of his control to not mindlessly rut into Anders' divine, licentious mouth.

Anders hollowed his cheeks and started sucking in earnest, reducing Fenris to a writhing, whimpering mess. He bottomed out with each stroke, not making his way back up until he felt Fenris' cock against the back of his throat. He could feel the tension building up in the elf's thighs as his hips worked in tandem with Ander's mouth. Anders could tell he was already close when Fenris started rambling a broken mantra, " _Ahh_ , Anders. _Nnngh_ futuō (fuck)," over and over.  

Anders came undone at hearing Fenris yell out his name in rapture. He couldn't combat his intensified arousal and fisted his own cock, pumping at the same pace he was sucking Fenris. Anders worked his tongue against Fenris, stroking and applying more pressure along the bottom of his cock, swallowing each time it was deep in his mouth.

He gripped the sheets tighter and his hips began to stutter in minute, inconsistent thrust into Anders' mouth. "Ego... Ego, futuō, A-Anders! Ego vado ad..." (I... I, fuck, A-Anders! I'm going to...) Fenris reached and grabbed a fistful of Anders' hair again. He arched his back off of the bed as he spilled into Anders' mouth, screaming _'Anders'_ over and over again, riding out every blissful, intense second of his orgasm.

By the time Fenris had gained enough control to remember his own name, Anders was planting small, sweet kisses on the insides of his thighs. When Fenris calmed and his chest stopped heaving so desperately, Anders rested his cheek on Fenris' hip, tracing the elegant lyrium brands along his stomach.

"Quod erat," (That was) Fenris cleared his throat and took a few more heavy breaths. "That was... Oh, Maker." He tangled his fingers in Anders hair and began stroking it affectionately, to which Anders provide a, _'mmmm,'_ and nuzzled further into Fenris' side.

When he could move again, Fenris repositioned himself at the head of the bed, properly using his new down pillows. Anders joined him in complete silence. He laid on his back and Fenris curled into him a little, nestling his face near Anders' hair, taking in the scent and absentmindedly fingering the silky strands.

After a long while, Anders turned on his side to face Fenris, propping his head up on his hand, elbow pressed deep into the pillow. "So," he said, and waited a while before continuing, weighing whether or not he should ask, "was that your... first, uhm, time with something... something like this?"

Fenris' cheeks flushed and he met Anders' gaze, struggling to keep his eyes open, "Indeed, it was," he replied with a shy little sultry grin.

"Really?" Anders asked, sounding surprised, though he'd expected that answer.

"You think me a liar, mage?" Fenris raised an eyebrow almost playfully.

"No, no. It's just... hard to believe, is all." Anders smiled and smoothed his hand down Fenris' side and over his hip.

He looked confused. "How so?"

"Well, eh. I don't know." Anders looked away and feigned disinterested in the topic. He cursed himself for not thinking before he spoke, though he should have been used to that feeling.

"You meant something by that, what was it?"

"I just... You're literally the single most remarkable thing I've ever seen. I can't believe you've never taken a bed mate. I can't believe they've not lined up at your door." Anders laughed at his own joke, a little nervous he'd admitted it now.

Fenris still looked genuinely confused, trying to hide how enamored he was by Anders' comment, simultaneously not wanting to continue the conversation. He just wanted to lay and enjoy the blissful, half-conscious haze he was in.

After another long silence, Anders leaned in and kissed Fenris. It was soft, and sweet, and passionate; something that neither of them had ever had enough of. Fenris shuffled closer, intertwining their legs and Anders went from half-hard, to fully erect in an instant, still longing for release. Fenris felt Anders' erection press against him and he looked down, then brought his eyes back up to meet Anders', who smiled deviously. "Oh, no. I'm not done with you yet," Anders said, smiling and wrapping his long arms completely around Fenris.

He rolled on top of the elf and kissed him deeply in a flurry of soft sighs and moans. He could feel Fenris hard underneath him again as they broke their kiss to breathe. He rested over Fenris, stroking his hair and gazing at him affectionately. Fenris nipped at his lower lip and neck while Anders stared. "Fenris..." Anders began, sounding rather serious.

Fenris stopped and straightened his head on the pillow, staring back up at Anders, "Yes?" He said, curiously.

"I want you, Fenris... May I" Anders paused to search Fenris' face for a reaction. "May I _have_ you?"

Fenris looked unsure for a brief moment, "But... I have never" He paused, not sure of what to say.

"I know," Anders said tenderly. "I will be gentle, I promise." He nuzzled his lips near Fenris' ear, "I assure you, it will be sublime," he said, and kissed his way down the elf's cheek and neck.   

After another shudder, Fenris merely nodded his head slowly, staring into Anders' eyes, a little dazed now.

Anders smiled warmly, "I need to hear you say it, Fenris." He continued to stroke the elf's hair, comforting him.

"You may," Fenris said before eagerly locking his lips with Anders' once more.

They lay there for a while, kissing and caressing, before Anders sat back on his heels. He wrapped an arm around each of Fenris' thighs and pulled him down the bed until Fenris was flush with his hips. They shared a smile at Anders' clumsiness, slamming their bodies together harder than he'd meant to. Anders ran his hands up and down Fenris' sides, making hungry, salacious noises the whole while. He doubled over and ran his tongue up the crease of Fenris' thigh before licking the underside of his length, hard and pulsing from the lyrium there. He teased Fenris with his tongue a little, running it over his slit and around the tip, before he took it fully into his mouth. Fenris' vision went white from the pure pleasure.

Fenris' cock only filled his mouth once before Anders was hurriedly pulled away by his hair. "I c-cannot," Fenris looked down at Anders, "it is t" he heaved a massive breath, shaking briefly, "too much." He dropped his head back to the mattress and Anders chuckled, warm and sultry. The sound shot straight through Fenris and he jerked again as Anders fully released him.

"I need to cast a spell, is that okay?"

Fenris rose on his elbows, his expression worried and a little confused.

Anders saw the insecurity in his expression and spoke quickly. "Nothing involving you, mind. I can go in the other room, if you wish. I just... need to cast a grease spell, unless you have some kind of oil or something we can use."

Fenris hadn't really even thought of that. All of this was far beyond anything he'd ever expected. He scanned the room, even though he knew there was nothing in there. "That would be... fine. Warn me before you cast it."

"Of course." Anders stroked the elf's muscled thigh understandingly. "I'm going to go ahead and do it now, if that's alright."

Fenris nodded and closed his eyes. Anders muttered the spell and Fenris felt the brief pull of magic at his brands, like the plucking of strings on a lute, tingling and fading out a second later. He opened his eyes and saw Anders coating himself in the clear oils, glistening and reflecting the shades of the fire in the hearth. His erection twitched at the sight and he licked his lips, not taking his eyes off of the mage, refusing to blink and risk missing a second. He felt like he could just lay there and watch Anders like this forever.

He noticed Fenris' reaction and bit his own lip, repressing a litany of lewd sounds from his intense arousal. Finally, Anders rested back on his heels, lifting Fenris towards him before running his oil slicked fingers up and down Fenris' cleft. He jerked a little, surprised, and Anders rested his palm flat against Fenris' abdomen to steady him. He continued to squirm when the mage's finger circled around his entrance, applying small amounts of pressure against it. " _Shhh_. Just relax. I'm going to make you feel good, I promise... You just have to relax and breathe." Fenris took a couple of long breaths, focusing on forcing his body to relax for Anders.

" _Mmmm_ , good," Anders said as he rubbed little circles on Fenris' abdomen. He pushed a little more, forcing the tip of his finger just inside the slick, tight ring of muscle. Fenris gasped and lost his breathing pattern, but tried to remain relaxed. Anders glided the rest of the way in and stopped until he felt Fenris was ready. He pulled back slowly, then pushed in all the way again, trying to block out Fenris' extremely arousing noises, whimpers, and pants, so that he could focus on preparing him.

Soon, Fenris felt another fingertip pressing into his body. He lifted his hips a little out of instinct. The slight burn of the second finger halted his whines and Anders comforted him again, petting and reminding him to relax his muscles. He pulsed both fingers in all the way and Fenris' body seemed to relax completely after some time, finally stretched to the unfamiliar width of two fingers.

Anders bit his lower lip and couldn't help but jerk his hips a little, starting to lose control of his focus in light of how utterly attractive Fenris was; on his back with his legs spread for Anders, making the most lascivious noises. Anders moaned and curled his fingers up a few times, causing Fenris to move his hips a little, apparently pleased with the sensation. Anders tried a few more times and Fenris' back arched high off of the bed as he grabbed at the sheets, panting and rattling _'ahh,'_ and _'mmm,'_ over and over until Anders stopped.

"There it is," Anders said, biting his lip harder. " _Oh_ , Maker, you're gorgeous like this..." Anders struggled to control himself. "Laid out..." he thrust his fingers in once more, "and moaning," he curled his fingers again and Fenris came undone the same as before, "and so _tight_..." Anders trailed off and scissored his fingers, preparing Fenris for a third.

Taking the third was a lot easier. He was already relaxed and lost in the ecstasy of Anders' fingers fucking him slowly. "Anders... A-Anders, _please_." Fenris wrapped his strong legs around Anders the best he could from such an angle, pressing the mage against him as much as possible. He started bucking his hips a little, grinding himself against any part of Anders that he could, trying to ride Anders' fingers, anything he could think of to feel _more_.

Fenris was a mewling mess when Anders removed his fingers, "no, Anders, please. More, _nnngh_." He was writhing and aching, unable to think about anything more than Anders filling him. Anders pulled Fenris closer and wrapped one hand around the base of his own cock, covered in oils and pre-come. He aligned it with Fenris' spread entrance and tightened his grip on the elf's hips, steadying him so that Anders could push in. When the tip of Anders cock made its way past the tight ring of muscle, Fenris released a sharp noise from the burn of being stretched further. Anders waited a moment before he pushed the rest of the way in with his own moans of surprise. " _Oh_ , fuck, Fenris. _Hnnn_ , you feel so g-good." Anders pulsed his hips lightly until he was fully sheathed inside of Fenris and he threw his head back, reveling in the intense sensation.

Fenris reached down and placed his palm flat against Anders abdomen, taking a moment to get used to the girth of Anders' cock. He covered the elf's hand with his own and Fenris' thumb started stroking the line of hair below the mage's navel again. "You like that, huh?" Anders said, smiling down at Fenris, struggling to keep himself still for him. Fenris moved his hips experimentally and removed his hand, signaling he was ready.

Anders laid flat over Fenris, still on his knees, and lavished his lips and neck as he thrust into him a few slow times, arching his back to go in deeper on each thrust. He knew neither of them would last long like this. " _Oh_ , Fenris," he whispered into the elf's ear, panting, and sweating, and thrusting, " _Oh_ Maker, Fenris." Anders put an arm behind Fenris' neck and pulled him up so that he could wrap his other arm around the man's back, against the bed, drawing every inch of their bodies into each other.

Fenris' mouth hung open, revealing every moan as he stared into Anders eyes. He started thrusting harder and Fenris wrapped his arms around Anders, reaching to grip his perfectly round ass. He nestled his mouth near Anders' ear and begged for more, pulling Anders against him, unable to find the words for anything else. "Please, _ah-_ Anders. More. H-harder. Faster. _Pleasssse."_

Anders stopped thrusting and sat back on his heels. "No, don't stop," Fenris whined, reaching for Anders. He grabbed the elf's hand and intertwined their fingers before settling his grip tight against Fenris. He thrust in once, hard, hitting that spot that made Fenris scream and beg, while going deeper into him than he had before. Fenris screamed to the Maker when Anders thrust again, just as hard. His pace slowly increased, each thrust coming harder than the last, " _ohh_ , fuck, Fenris you're so fucking _Ohhh_ Fenris."

Anders fucked him like that, hard and deep, until there was nothing else in the world but their cries and the lewd slapping of skin each time Anders plowed his cock into Fenris, eliciting another scream or curse. He felt Fenris' legs tense around him, "futuis me, Anders. Amplius! _Ohh_ , futuō, Anders... Anders." (Fuck me, Anders. More! _Ohh_ , fuck, Anders... Anders.)

Anders kept his pace and reached down between them, taking Fenris' cock in hand. He began stroking it in time with his thrusts, trying desperately to ward off his own orgasm until he'd made Fenris come again. It was difficult. Having to watch Fenris writhe, and moan, and beg for his cock was sending him over the edge quickly, too quickly. "Fenris, _mmm..._ Fen- _ah-_ Fenris come. _Ohhh_ fuck, come for me, Fenris." Anders' voice sent Fenris into an obscene display of vulgar noises and desperation. His thrusts became sporadic and aggressive as he began to lose control, Fenris meeting each one with a buck from his own hips. He moved his fist faster, still trying to match his pace to each thrust.

Fenris came, screaming Anders' name as loud as his voice could manage; spilling into Anders' hand, splashing his seed between himself and the mage. Anders squeezed Fenris' hand as hard as he could when he felt Fenris clenching around his cock. Atop everything else, watching the rapturous display of Fenris coming sent him over the edge mere seconds after Fenris. " _Ahhnn._ Farcio me, Anders. _Ah, a_ _h_ ," ( _Ahhnn._ Fill me, Anders. _Ah, ah_.) Fenris moaned just before he felt the same hot liquid fill him. He could feel Anders start to tremble, throbbing inside of him as Anders stopped thrusting and bellowing his name to the Maker. 

Anders slumped over Fenris, both of them creating a sweating, panting mess of Fenris' new bed. He rested his head against the elf's shoulder, taking a moment to regain his composure. He wasn't sure if he could move right then, even if the bed caught fire all around them.

Finally, Anders moved and rolled to the side. Fenris' body jerked at the sudden movement, still overly sensitive from their coupling. He felt Anders slip out of him, causing him to quiver, leaving him full of Anders' hot release. Still thoroughly paralyzed, Fenris' body ached at the loss and he relished the feeling of Anders inside of him still.

The fire had died and the dried sweat remaining on Anders' skin met with the chilly autumn air made him shiver. They laid there in complete silence as he stared at Fenris. The elf's eyes were closed and his breathing was even and calm now. Anders honestly couldn't tell whether he was asleep or not. He didn't want to wake him if he was, but he didn't know whether Fenris would want him to get up and go or stay. He figured that, for the moment, it didn't matter, so he shut his eyes and rested an arm behind his head.

Anders was startled when Fenris shifted in the bed, rolling onto his stomach before he shoved an arm under the pillow. The sleeping elf brought his knee up and pushed it into Anders' side. He was damn near pushing Anders out of the bed, but Anders just smiled and rocked his head against his arm before he drifted back into a dreamless sleep.

~~|   ~o~    |~~

He thought he heard something. He lifted his head from the pillow, still sleep hazed, and listened for a long moment. When nothing came, he flopped onto his back, yawning and mussing his hair. He finally opened his eyes and rubbed them, trying to become used to the sunlight beaming through the windows, and looked over to find Anders. He was lying on his back with one arm propped behind his head, smiling and snoring ever so lightly. Fenris found himself smiling, too, and ridiculously enticed by the golden strands of hair laying in a messy mane all around Anders' head. He slowly reached up to brush some hair out of the sleeping mage's face when he half jumped out of bed from a pounding at his door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Placere. Placere justo relinquunt. Non possum ego: Please. Pleaes just leave. I cannot... (pseudo-Latin)  
> Ego voluisse hoc... pro tam diu: I have wanted this... for so long (pseudo-Latin)  
> Futuō: Fuck (pseudo-Latin)  
> Ego... Ego, futuō, A-Anders! Ego vado ad: I... I, fuck, A-Anders! I'm going to... (pseudo-Latin)  
> Quod erat: That was (pseudo-Latin)  
> Futuis me, Anders. Amplius! Ohh, futuō, Anders... Anders: Fuck me, Anders. More! Ohh, fuck, Anders... Anders. (pseudo-Latin)
> 
> Hopefully there aren't too many blaring in-text mistakes. I tried to hunt them all down, but... 
> 
> Enjoy!!!


End file.
